


The Damned

by LadyMango



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: AU, Aziraphale Is Trying His Best, Crowley’s old owners were horrible, Demons are slaves, Demons have had their powers stripped from them, Falling In Love, Flashbacks and nightmares of old mental and physical abuse, Getting to Know Each Other, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Scared Crowley (Good Omens), Sexual Themes, Trust Issues, becoming friends, learning to trust each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 48,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29135136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMango/pseuds/LadyMango
Summary: Demons were captured by angels during the Fall, and have been kept as servants ever since.Aziraphale, feeling lonely, decides to purchase a demon. Naturally, he chooses the most frightened one.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 166
Kudos: 348





	1. Chapter 1

***

As Aziraphale walked up the pristine steps of the Demon Rehoming House, he wondered if this was really such a good idea. 

He had only come to Heaven in order to attend a meeting. Afterwards, the other angels had gathered in small groups to talk amongst themselves, and he’d found himself stood on his own, feeling out of place and more like an outsider than ever before. Heaven didn’t feel like home to him anymore, it hadn’t for a long time. Earth felt like home, and he supposed that, having lived there for the last 6000 years, that shouldn’t come as a surprise.

He’d decided not to return to his bookshop just yet, and instead he found himself opening the door to the Demon Rehoming House. He was considering adopting a demon, although ‘buying’ was really the proper word for it. Demons were expensive to purchase and only the top tier angels could afford one - Archangels and, at a push, Principalities like himself. 

Heaven didn’t have currency, per say, but every commendation came with a sort of brownie point, and Aziraphale had saved up enough over the millennia that he could easily buy a demon. There wasn’t much else that he would want to spend his points on anyway. Points could only be spent on things in Heaven, and he was hardly ever up here. Besides, he would feel silly riding around on one of those hover-boards that were all the rage in Heaven right now, and he didn’t like the idea of owning a mobile phone in the human world, let alone one of Heaven’s fancy models. 

He glanced around as he entered the building. The room was a stark white - like every other building in Heaven - and cold white lights shone down from the ceiling, so bright that they hurt his eyes if he looked directly at them. The walls were dotted with large framed pictures, seemingly the only colour in this clinical-looking place. 

The pictures were all photographs of demons, adverts to show the sorts of things that demons could do for their owner - such as cooking, cleaning, and errand running. One picture showed a demon hard at work filing in an office, and the text underneath promised that your demon could save you lots of time and stress by doing the menial tasks that were, quite frankly, beneath you as an angel. Why waste a miracle to perform a boring task or do it manually when a demon could do it for you? 

Gabriel was always telling Aziraphale off for being too frivolous and self-serving with his miracle use - they should only be used for the greater good. Aziraphale believed that having a demon to help him with chores around the shop would help him keep his miracle count down, saving him from yet more reprimands. 

But it wasn’t just about having someone to help him with chores. Aziraphale wanted the company. He liked the idea of having a familiar face around the house, someone to talk to and eat with. He had grown fond of many humans in his time, but their lives were so short, and it always hurt when they inevitably parted ways. He wanted someone who, like himself, was immortal. He wasn’t close to any angels, and even Gabriel - who he had the most contact with - felt far more like a boss than a friend.

Aziraphale was desperately lonely.

Despite all of this, the thought of owning a demon had always made him feel uncomfortable. They were essentially slaves to their owners, and slave owning was something Aziraphale had always thought abhorrent. But he told himself that he could give a demon a good home, treat them kindly and gain their trust and friendship. After all, they had been angels once, and they had already suffered so much for their sins.

Another picture showed a demon sprawled on a bed, posing suggestively and winking. Aziraphale blushed, looked away, and then jumped when he realised an angel was stood right next to him.

"Principality Aziraphale! How wonderful to see you! I do hope you're having a lovely afternoon?"

The angel had a smarmy, fake smile plastered on his face, and he showed all the eagerness of a salesperson who desperately wanted to make a sale and thought they had found a sure shot.

"I- er. Yes. Lovely. Hello," Aziraphale said, smiling awkwardly in return.

“I don't believe we've had the pleasure of providing you with a demon before? Correct me if I'm wrong..."

"Oh! Er. No. You’re right."

"Lovely - a first time buyer! Well don't you worry, we can find the perfect demon just for you. You’ll wonder how you ever managed without one!"

"Oh! I'm not- I mean, I was only thinking about it."

"Of course. Of course. Just window shopping. That's absolutely fine! Now, let me introduce you to some of our demons - they can be difficult to resist!" He laughed loudly. "That’s just my little joke! I’m known around here for being a bit of a joker! It’s just my way. Now come along and meet some of our demons. It will be fun. No pressure!”

Aziraphale found himself being steered down a corridor.

“You’re stationed on Earth, yes?” 

“Yes. Soho. London.”

“We can deliver to Earth, no problem.”

The assistant plucked a leaflet from a table as they passed and handed it to Aziraphale. On the cover it said, ‘Demons! A beginner’s guide!’

“There’s a lot of useful information in there,” said the assistant, “and if you purchase a demon, you’ll also receive an owner’s manual. But don’t worry about that, you already have a head start on most new owners.”

“I do?”

“Of course! You’ve spent lots of time around humans, yes? Well, demons need to sleep, eat and drink to keep their physical bodies going just like humans do. Without their demonic powers they are as weak and helpless as humans.”

Aziraphale tucked the leaflet into his pocket. He did know a lot about humans, so looking after a demon should be easy enough. He certainly wouldn’t have to worry about forgetting to feed them. He enjoyed his meal times, and he was looking forward to having someone to share them with. Perhaps one day, when his demon had settled in and they had become good friends, they could even go out to eat – maybe even to the Ritz! Aziraphale felt a rush of excitement at the thought of it.

The angel started to unlock a door. “Most angels who have a base on Earth have a demon – Gabriel, Michael, Uriel - I’m surprised you’ve gone this long without owning one! They really do make life so much easier, you know?”

The door opened, and they stepped into a long and narrow room. A wide walkway ran down the middle, and on either side of that lay cell after cell, each one containing a demon. The cells were small and cramped with metal bars that put Aziraphale in mind of a prison.

Aziraphale stood frozen, more aware than ever that the demons were being held against their will. Although Aziraphale understood why the demons were being punished, this still didn’t feel right. Aziraphale would not keep an animal in these conditions, let alone a person. These cells were too small. Aziraphale wished he could buy each and every demon, and give them somewhere safe and comfortable to live. But he knew he could only afford to buy one of them. 

The assistant didn’t seem to notice his discomfort. “Go on then! Feel free to browse! Are you looking for any qualities in particular in your demon?” 

“Um. I don’t know. A male one?”

“Oh, you can alter their genitalia to your whim.”

“A demon that identifies as male then,” Aziraphale said, feeling embarrassed.

“We mostly let them choose which gender they would like to be when they get here if that helps?” 

Hesitantly, Aziraphale walked over to one of the cells. 

Inside was a male demon. He was tall and thin, with what looked like a toad hiding in his white hair. Aziraphale gave him a friendly smile, and the demon looked at him with interest. 

“Hello,” said Aziraphale cheerfully. “I’m-”

The demon sprang towards Aziraphale, growling and snarling as he tried to claw at him through the bars.

Aziraphale staggered back as the assistant used his powers to throw the demon back against the wall and hold him there. The demon was laughing.

“Sorry,” said the assistant to Aziraphale. “Hastur has always been a bit troublesome. He definitely needs an experienced owner!” 

The assistant glared at Hastur, but the demon just smirked back despite still being pinned to the wall. 

“You’re on half rations for the next month!” 

Hastur’s face fell.

“Oh, don’t deprive him of food,” Aziraphale said.

“It’s the only way he’ll learn.” 

The assistant turned away from Hastur, and the demon dropped to the floor, no longer held in place by a miracle. Hastur grumbled to himself as he got back to his feet.

Aziraphale looked at Hastur over his shoulder, wondering if he might be able to help him become a kind and contented demon if he adopted him, but Hastur was giving him a predatory look, and was clearly violent, so Aziraphale decided it would be best not to risk it. Hastur scared him.

“Do you have any friendlier demons?” Aziraphale asked.

The angel smirked. “Oh, they’re all friendly when it comes down to it, if you know what I mean.” 

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean it like that! Good grief! I just meant that I want a demon that won’t try to rip my arm off at the first opportunity!”

Aziraphale could feel his cheeks going red. The angel clearly thought he wanted a demon for sexual purposes – after all, he had caught him looking at the saucy demon advert, and Aziraphale had specifically asked for a male demon. 

In truth, Aziraphale had always rather liked the idea of being seduced by a demon. They had a reputation for being nymphomaniacs, and he had assumed that most demons would jump at the chance to have sex with an angel. Aziraphale had never had sex with anyone before, and he was both frightened and excited at the thought of it. 

He had never been friendly enough with any angels to experiment sexually with them, and most angels didn’t bother to miracle up a sex drive for themselves anyway. He didn’t want to do it with a human either. They seemed so young, their lives gone in the blink of an eye, and he already struggled with getting attached to them as it was. 

But a demon would live forever, just like him. 

There was something dangerous about demons, but at the same time, Aziraphale could perform miracles while they couldn’t, so he knew he would be safe. Or at least, that was how he’d felt before he’d met Hastur.

Aziraphale was starting to realise that a lot of his assumptions about demons were incorrect. Hastur had been far more interested in attacking him than flirting with him, and going by how the staff here treated their demons, Aziraphale wasn’t surprised by Hastur’s bad attitude. He felt pity towards these demons.

“Let’s find you something a little meeker,” said the angel. “I think I’ve got just the demon for you! Follow me, Principality Aziraphale.” 

Aziraphale was led to a cell a short distance away. 

Sat huddled at the back of the cell was a demon with long, wavy, red hair. He hissed at them immediately in what Aziraphale assumed was supposed to be a threatening manner, but it put him more in mind of a frightened cat. 

The demon hissed again.

“Shush, Crawly,” said the assistant. “Get up now. Come on.”

Crawly didn’t budge.

The angel made an annoyed sound and then huffed impatiently. 

Crawly got to his feet in jerky movements like a puppet on a string. His eyes were wide and fixed on the assistant. Aziraphale realised that the assistant was controlling his movements. 

The spell broke and Crawly staggered back a few steps before just standing there awkwardly, fiddling with the sleeves of his black robe. He glanced at Aziraphale before quickly dropping his gaze to the floor. 

Aziraphale found this tall, lithe demon attractive but that was irrelevant. If he were to adopt him, he would never take advantage of the power he had over him. Sex would be the last thing on this poor frightened demon’s mind.

Crawly jumped and let out a yelp as his wings sprang forth. 

“He’s got beautiful wings, don’t you think? Pirouette for us, Crawly.”

Crawly hesitated, but then he spun himself around once until he was facing them again, eyes still directed at the floor.

“They need us to summon their wings for them,” the assistant explained. “They can’t do it themselves because they can’t access their occult magic. They need our help. Why don’t you try to put them away for him with a miracle?” 

“Oh. Er. Yes, I suppose I should learn how,” Aziraphale said. “Are you ready, Crawly?”

Crawly gulped, and then nodded. He flinched as his wings vanished.

It had felt invasive, and Aziraphale felt guilty for having done it. He took a step closer and Crawly visibly recoiled, so he took a step back. He smiled reassuringly at Crawly, but the demon was still staring at the floor. Aziraphale kept his voice soft and gentle, trying to sound as unthreatening as he could. “It’s alright, Crawly. Please don’t be nervous. I would never hurt you.”

Yellow distrusting eyes glanced up at him before dropping back to the floor.

“Oh, you must be a cat-demon,” Aziraphale said, fascinated by Crawly’s slitted pupils.

Crawly hunched his shoulders in embarrassment. 

The assistant gave an amused laugh. “Oh! No! He’s a serpent. Show us your tongue, Crawly.”

Reluctantly, Crawly stuck out his forked tongue, but only for a moment.

“Only two previous owners. He’s very well behaved – for a demon at least! Would you like to see him naked?”

For a moment, Aziraphale thought he’d misheard him. The question had been asked so casually that he might as well have been asking if he wanted a cup of tea.

The assistant didn’t wait for a reply. “Strip, Crawly.” 

Crawly looked mortified. He gave the assistant a pleading look, before staring at the ground in humiliated defeat. Trembling hands moved up towards the fastenings of his robes at the same time that Aziraphale found his voice.

“No! Don’t do that, Crawly!” Aziraphale turned towards the assistant, overcome with rage. “What’s wrong with you?! Ordering him to- in front of everyone!” 

Aziraphale knew the nearby demons were watching.

The assistant gave him an apologetic smile. “You can look at him somewhere more private if that would make you more comfortable?”

“No, that would not make me more comfortable! How dare you order anyone to- to undress against their will! I don’t want to see him in the nude! I don’t want a demon for that sort of thing - I told you! I just want someone to help me with chores. That’s all!”

“Yes, of course. I apologise.” 

Aziraphale got the impression that he didn’t believe him, but Aziraphale was more worried about Crawly believing him, and he still looked terrified. 

Aziraphale glared at the assistant. “These demons deserve basic human rights. I am absolutely appalled by the way you are treating them!”

“Human rights? They’re not human. They’re less than human. They don’t even have souls.”

“They’re still people! And the way you’re treating them is disgusting. And that demon from before - Hastur – don’t deprive him of food! I demand to speak to your superior.”

“I am the manager of this establishment,” the assistant said icily. He was trying to remain polite but he was clearly struggling. “With all due respect, Principality Aziraphale, I know these demons far better than you do, and they require proper discipline. Give them an inch and they’ll take a mile.”

“I’m going to speak to Gabriel about this,” Aziraphale said furiously. “This is outrageous.”

The angel looked annoyed, but he didn’t seem worried. 

Aziraphale looked back at Crawly, who was now stood at the back of the cell watching him warily with his arms wrapped around himself. He looked so small and helpless that it broke Aziraphale’s heart. He wanted to look after him. He couldn’t just leave him here, where he would be mistreated and then perhaps sold to the sort of angel that would happily watch as Crawly was forced to strip in front of angels and demons alike.

Aziraphale wanted to help all of the demons but he did not have the funds. Besides, the only other demon he had spoken to here frightened him. But he might be able to help Crawly. And hopefully Gabriel would be able to make things better for the others. 

“It’s alright, Crawly. You can come home with me. I’ll look after you and I’m sure we’ll become good friends.”

Crawly didn’t look very happy about this, but Aziraphale was sure that he could gain the demon’s trust in time and give him a good home. 

The manager was suddenly smiling again, looking very pleased with himself. “You wish to take him?”

“Yes,” said Aziraphale coldly.

The manager pretended not to notice his tone. “Come with me then and we’ll fill out the paperwork. One of my colleagues will bring Crawly to us afterwards.”

***

Aziraphale signed the last document, and then handed over the paperwork to the manager, who gave him a handbook in exchange. 

“Congratulations on your new purchase!” the manager said cheerfully. 

The manager left the room, taking the paperwork with him, and Aziraphale wondered if one of the demons was going to be tasked with filing it. 

The manager returned moments later with Crawly, who was flanked by two other angels. 

Crawly looked pale, and his breathing was coming sharp and fast. 

Aziraphale gave him a reassuring smile. “Hello again, Crawly. It’s alright. Don’t be frightened.” 

The manager picked up a small wooden box. “Now, we just need to give him his medicine-”

Crawly’s head shot up. “Nononono! I already had it a few weeks ago!” Crawly tried to back away but the angels either side of him grabbed hold of him. “No! Please!” Crawly cried out hysterically. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t?” said Aziraphale, shocked by this quiet demon’s sudden outburst.

“Just ignore him. He’s kicking up a fuss on purpose,” the manager said. “Besides, it’s easier to transport them after they’ve had their medicine, and it’s beneficial for you to see what you need to do.”

“What I…?”

“Every eight weeks he will need to take one single tablet. Don’t leave it any later. After ten weeks their powers will start to come back.” 

The manager took a tablet out of the box. It was small and round, and perfectly transparent.

“What is it?” Aziraphale asked worriedly.

For a split second, the angel looked at him like he was an idiot. “It’s a small, diluted dose of holy water. It’s not dangerous for a demon - it just keeps them in check.” He returned the pill to the wooden box, and then thrust the box at Aziraphale. “Would you like to do the honours? Or would you rather I did it?”

Overwhelmed, Aziraphale looked at Crawly. The demon was trembling and shaking his head.

Aziraphale turned back towards the manager. “Is this really necessary?”

“Don’t let him put you off - he’s done this millions of times before. Here, let me show you how it’s done. It’ll only take a second.”

Aziraphale stood there, dithering, unsure of what to do, while the manager went over to Crawly, who was still being restrained by the other angels. He grabbed him by the jaw and forced the capsule into his mouth. He stroked his throat to make him swallow it like he was a dog.

Nothing happened for a moment, and then Crawly’s fast, panicked breathing hitched and he let out an ear-piercing scream.

The angels let go of Crawly and he collapsed to the floor, writhing and flailing, then he seemed to lose the power to move or scream and he just lay there, twitching and shivering on the ground. His breathing was laboured and there were tears streaking his face.

Aziraphale stared at Crawly, horrified by what he had just witnessed. He felt ashamed for not having stopped the angels. They didn’t even seem to care that they had hurt Crawly.

“Demons, eh? So dramatic,” said the manager. "He’ll be fine in a few hours. Just let him get some sleep before he starts his responsibilities.” He gave Crawly an experimental kick. “In fact, he’s asleep already.”

Aziraphale was fairly sure he was unconscious. 

“We’ll escort you to the teleporter next door, and then you can take your new demon back to Earth with you.” 

The manager gestured to one of the other angels. “Please carry the demon to the teleporter for Principality Aziraphale.”

“No, I’ll carry him,” Aziraphale said quickly. He dropped the box and the manual on the table, rushed forward and scooped Crawly up into his arms protectively. 

One of the other angels picked up Aziraphale’s things from the table.

As Aziraphale was escorted to the teleportation room and stepped into the light, he wondered how on Earth he was ever going to be able to put Crawly through that again.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might think that a world which hasn’t had demons let loose on it would be radically different to a world where Heaven and Hell have equal influence, and in many ways you'd be right. Heaven have free reign over Earth, or at least, they like to think they do. But humans have always had a strong capacity for both good and evil - and free will - which ultimately means that they do whatever they want. 
> 
> Adam and Eve still ate the apple without being tempted by Crawly, because humans are nothing if not curious and mischievous. 
> 
> The biggest differences in this world which never had Crowley's influence are that selfies were never invented, television shows aren’t as good, and the M25 is a lovely and pleasant driving experience.


	2. Chapter 2

***

Crawly – or Crowley, as he liked to think of himself – drifted slowly back to consciousness. Every muscle ached, his throat and stomach burned, and he felt weak and dizzy. He recognised this feeling - this was how he always felt when he woke up after having his medicine.

His eyes were still closed, and he might have tried to go back to sleep, but he realised with a start that this was not his bed – it was too soft. He felt movement against his forehead and realised that someone was touching him. 

He jolted fully awake, his eyes opening wide, and he found himself staring up at Aziraphale who was leaning over him with his hand pressed against his forehead. 

Everything that had happened – meeting Aziraphale and being sold to him - came rushing back.

Crowley let out a yelp and scrambled away from the angel, who jumped back in surprise. Crowley’s movements were painfully slow - weak and exhausted as he was. He backed away until he was huddled at the far corner of the bed, wedged against the walls in the corner of the room. He expected Aziraphale to come after him, or to shout at him to come back, but instead the angel just stood beside the bed, looking unsure of himself. 

Crowley was at his most vulnerable after having his medicine. He wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight - not that he would have been able to fight Aziraphale off anyway. Without his powers, he was nothing. He was helpless.

Crowley knew what was in store for him. He had seen the way Aziraphale had looked at him. It didn’t matter how much Aziraphale had tried to deny his intentions in front of the manager, it was obvious he had chosen him because he wanted to fuck him. 

Both of Crowley’s previous owners had hurt him, belittled him, treated him like he was worthless, but they had never sexually abused him. Now, he wouldn’t even be spared that. 

Crowley realised he was crying, and he felt pathetic for it. He thought back to Hastur clawing through the bars and frightening Aziraphale away. He’d wanted to be strong and menacing like him. He’d tried to frighten Aziraphale too, but his hissing had sounded piteous even to his own ears. He’d been unable to hide how frightened he was, and he couldn’t hide it now either.

“It’s alright,” Aziraphale said softly. “I’m not going to hurt you – you’re safe here, I promise.” 

Crowley wondered how long it was going to take for Aziraphale to break that promise. Probably about as long as it took for him to realise that he didn’t want to have sex with him.

He thought back to Aziraphale’s furious outburst towards the Manager, and he knew his anger would be turned on him eventually. Aziraphale had seemed angry about the living conditions of the demons, but Crowley suspected that, in truth, he had just been embarrassed and annoyed that the manager had known he wanted a demon for sex. 

Aziraphale gave him a nervous smile. “I was just trying to heal you- Or dull the pain, I should say. I can’t heal holy water damage, but I can stop it from hurting so much. Does it still hurt? You look like you’re in pain. I can heal your pain by touching your forehead.”

Crowley didn’t respond. His mouth felt dry.

Aziraphale carefully perched on the edge of the bed. “I can heal the pain if you want me to? I don’t want you to be in pain, Crawly.”

Crowley hated that name. It reminded him that he was nothing more than a worthless demon squirming about at his owner’s feet. But despite that, he would never share his real name with an angel. It belonged to him alone. He wouldn’t let them ruin it. It was the only thing he had that was truly his own.

“I would like to help you, if you’ll allow it,” said Aziraphale as he gingerly reached out towards him. 

Crowley flattened himself against the wall and wondered how far he would get if he tried to run away across the room, he felt so weak he would probably collapse on the floor. 

“Don’t touch me!” Crowley yelled, his voice cracking. 

He didn’t expect Aziraphale to listen, but Aziraphale pulled his hand back and shifted away from him on the bed. 

“Alright,” said Aziraphale. “Crawly, I would never do anything inappropriate. I adopted you because I wanted some company and some help with chores. That’s all.” Aziraphale hesitated. “I couldn’t leave you in that terrible place. I hope you will be happy here. You are safe, I promise.” 

Crowley’s head hurt, and he couldn’t think straight. 

“Try and get some rest - they said you would need lots of sleep. This is your room, and you have an en-suite bathroom over there.”

Aziraphale gestured towards a door, but Crowley wouldn’t take his eyes off of his captor for one second. 

“Feel free to have a look around when you’re ready. There’s a ward on the door, but when you’re feeling more comfortable I’ll remove that and you can explore the house.” Aziraphale gave him a cheerful smile. “I’ll just go and get some food and water for you - and some paracetamol – and then I’ll leave you in peace. Can I get you anything else? Is there anything you need?”

Aziraphale waited for a response so Crowley shook his head.

“Alright. I’ll be back in a moment.” 

Aziraphale bustled out of the room and returned shortly after with a tray which he placed on the bedside table. There was a glass of water, a packet of biscuits and an apple. There were also two little tablets which reminded Crowley far too much of the medicine tablets, though they looked nothing like them. 

“Is there anything else you need?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley shook his head.

“You look exhausted. I’ll leave you in peace so you can get some rest.” Aziraphale headed back towards the door. “I‘ll be in the next room, so if you need anything just give me a shout. I’ll check in on you later.” 

Aziraphale hesitated in the doorway. “This must all be a lot for you to take in, but please don’t worry - everything is going to be okay.”

Aziraphale left the room, carefully closing the door behind him. Crowley watched the door for a little while, and then slowly, weakly, shuffled across to look at the food. 

He felt nauseous, far too anxious to have an appetite - and besides, his stomach still hurt from where he had been force fed holy water - but he gazed longingly at the food all the same. 

The food in the cells had been boring and bland, though he was sure it was full of nutrients. After all, they wanted the demons to look healthy in order to sell them. His first owner, Michael, had given him ingredients and allowed him to cook - partly because she enjoyed eating and wanted him to cook for her - but his last owner had fed him what could only be described as gruel. 

Crowley had the urge to hide the food somewhere for later – he didn’t know when his next meal would come – but he was feeling so worn down that he could barely keep his eyes open. 

The adrenaline and fear that had kept him awake this long wasn’t enough to keep his eyes from closing, or to stop his body from going slack as he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

***

After talking to Crawly, Aziraphale sat in his bedroom and read the manual, but he felt so worried about Crawly that he struggled to concentrate on the words. He wondered if he was really cut out for looking after a demon. 

Had he done the right thing in adopting Crawly? Would he be able to help him feel safe and happy? All he seemed to do was frighten the poor thing. 

He listened intently for any noises from Crawly’s room, though he wasn’t sure if Crawly would actually dare to ask for help. He checked on him several times that night, getting close enough to the sleeping demon to make sure he was still breathing. Crawly didn’t wake even once.

There was a sitting room upstairs, though it was mostly just another place for him to store his books. He went in there, leaving both Crawly’s door and the sitting room’s door open to make sure he would hear Crawly if he shouted for him, and then he picked up the telephone receiver.

A quick miracle, and his address book that had been sat on the desk in his bookshop downstairs appeared in his hand. He flicked through it until he found Gabriel’s name. The only telephone number he had was the landline of Gabriel’s house on Earth. He did not have the number for his Heaven-issued mobile telephone - which Gabriel always had on him - but Aziraphale wouldn’t be able to ring that anyway, not from an ordinary human telephone. Maybe he ought to get one of those fancy mobiles from Heaven after all. 

Aziraphale crossed his fingers and hoped that Gabriel was home. The phone rang and rang, until eventually someone picked up.

“Hello? Gabriel’s residence,” said a tired voice. 

“Beelzebub? Hello! This is Aziraphale. Can I speak to Gabriel please?”

“He’s out. Have you tried his mobile? Oh, wait, you don’t have one of those… can I take a message?”

Aziraphale wanted to tell Gabriel about the terrible living conditions of the demons, but he didn’t want to upset Beelzebub with such news.

“Could you ask him to call me back?” Aziraphale paused for a moment. Gabriel never got around to calling him back. “Or… do you know when he’ll be back? And I’ll try again then.”

“Not sure. Maybe tomorrow morning? Try ringing about lunchtime, he should be back by then.”

Aziraphale glanced at the clock on the wall and his eyes went wide. “I’m so sorry! It’s 4am! I didn’t realise! I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m terribly sorry.” 

Beelzebub sounded amused. “No worries.”

“I’ll let you get back to bed. Goodnight.”

“Night,” Beelzebub said, and then hung up.

Aziraphale stared glumly at the manual on his lap. He rarely slept, he didn’t have any need to, but he knew that demons needed it. That was another thing he would have to make sure he remembered when it came to Crawly. 

***

Crowley awoke to the smell of bacon. 

He felt stronger now, and his appetite was back in full force, the smell of bacon making his mouth water. He hadn’t had bacon in over a century. His first owner, Michael, had let him eat any left-over bacon whenever he cooked for her, and sometimes she even let him put a couple of extra slices in the pan, just for him. 

He had hated being Michael’s servant, always having to do whatever she said, and having to rely on her for every little thing. She never listened to his opinion, and she looked down on him, saw him as being beneath her. 

It wasn’t until she got rid of him, and he got a new owner that he realised how good he’d had it with her. Her harsh words and the little slaps around the ear were nothing compared to the way his second owner treated him.

He tried not to think about that.

Who was cooking for Aziraphale? Was there another demon whose job it was to cook? No, he had overheard that Aziraphale was a first time buyer. He must be doing the cooking himself because he thought Crowley was too ill to do it. 

Crowley’s last owner didn’t like eating, and, being an angel, didn’t need to. Crowley suspected that Aziraphale was more like Michael when it came to food. After all, there was no chance that Aziraphale was going to all the effort of making a cooked breakfast just for a demon.

He wondered what he would have to do to be allowed a rasher of bacon.

Aziraphale’s words from yesterday came back to him. He had said that he wouldn’t do anything ‘inappropriate’ to him and he wouldn’t hurt him. Crowley took this to mean that he wasn’t planning on raping him any time soon, though Crowley suspected that the angel was going to expect to have sex with him anyway. All angels seemed to think that demons were sex addicts, so Aziraphale would probably be offended if Crowley didn’t leap at the chance. 

Crowley wondered how long Aziraphale’s patience would last.

He tried not to think about that either. 

Instead, he sat up, drank some of the water and then ate a few of the biscuits. They were delicious and even had chunks of chocolate in. It was rare for Crowley to be allowed chocolate, and he had a great fondness for it so this was a pleasant surprise. He looked around the room for a good place to hide the remaining biscuits and apple for later, and then he decided to explore. 

Originally, Crowley had assumed this bedroom was Aziraphale’s. It was big and well furnished with a comfortable bed and well-made furniture, and despite Aziraphale telling him it was his, he still couldn’t quite get his head around the idea. 

The adjoining bathroom was beautiful. It had a shower and a bath. He repeatedly turned the sink’s taps on and off. Running water! Plumbing! A proper toilet! This place was luxurious. Would he really be allowed to use all of this whenever he wanted to? 

Back in the bedroom, he took the remaining biscuits out of the wrapper, picked up the apple, and then then hid them carefully under the bed, hoping that Aziraphale would assume he’d eaten them. It was a relief to know that if he was punished by being denied food, he would have some supplies to fall back on. It was true that Aziraphale had seemed horrified at Hastur being denied food, but what angels said and what they did didn’t always match up. Crowley didn’t trust him.

There were footsteps coming up some nearby stairs. 

Crowley panicked.

***

Aziraphale placed the breakfast tray on the floor outside of Crawly’s bedroom, and then he knocked on the door.

“Hello, Crawly? It’s me – Aziraphale.” 

Aziraphale waited for a reply but it never came.

“I have brought some breakfast for you. Can I come in please?”

Silence. 

“Crawly?”

More silence.

“Are you alright?”

Aziraphale started to worry. He’d last checked on him about an hour ago, and Crawly had been fast asleep. Had something happened to him since then?

“I’m going to open the door.”

Aziraphale pushed open the door, and then stepped inside. 

He couldn’t see Crawly anywhere. The bathroom door was open, but he wasn’t in there either. 

“Crawly? Where are you? It’s alright – you’re not in any trouble. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

He tentatively opened the wardrobe to see if he was hiding in there, but he only saw empty coat-hangers. Then he looked under the desk, but Crawly wasn’t there either. He knelt down and lifted the duvet to peer under the bed. Yellow, reflective eyes shone back at him from the dark. 

“Ah, there you are. How are you feeling this morning? Do you feel any better?”

After a pause, Crawly replied in a quiet voice. “Yes.”

Aziraphale smiled. “That’s good. I’ve brought you some breakfast. I wasn’t sure what food you would like, so there’s a little bit of everything, but you only need to eat what you fancy. I’ll just pop it on the desk for you.”

Crawly didn’t reply. 

Aziraphale got back to his feet and fetched the tray. He hesitated, considering placing the tray on the floor by the bed instead, just in case Crawly didn’t want to come out even after he’d left.

“You can stay under the bed if it makes you feel more comfortable, but I promise you, you’re quite safe. Would you prefer me to put the tray on the floor so you can reach it? I’ll be going downstairs in a moment, so you’ll have the room to yourself.”

“On the desk please,” said Crawly in a small voice.

Aziraphale put the tray down on the desk. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No. Thank you.”

“After I’ve eaten my breakfast, I’m going to make a hot drink. Would you like one too? There’s tea or coffee?”

There was a long pause. “Coffee please.”

“Lovely. I’ll bring that to you later.” 

Aziraphale stood in the centre of the room, feeling awkward. It felt like he was imposing. “I want you to be happy here, Crawly. So please don’t be frightened. I’ll see you later. Enjoy your breakfast.” 

Aziraphale closed the door behind him, and then went downstairs. 

***

The second Crowley heard Aziraphale descending the stairs, he climbed out from under the bed and rushed over to the desk. 

He found buttered toast, hash browns, sausages, mushrooms, fried eggs and two rashers of bacon. There was a glass of orange juice and an apple too. He hid the apple under the bed where he’d put the rest of his stash.

He enjoyed every bite of the food, though he could only manage about a third of it. He wasn’t used to eating such large amounts at a time, and he’d had some biscuits not long ago. 

There was a paper napkin on the tray so he wrapped up the left overs in that and then hid the bundle under the bed. 

He was sipping his orange juice when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. He leapt up from the chair and immediately moved towards the bed, his heart racing. The footsteps were coming along the hallway. 

There was a knock on the door. “Hello. I have your coffee. Can I come in?”

Crowley stood frozen. He didn’t understand why Aziraphale kept asking permission to enter the room - this was his house after all. Crowley thought about earlier, when Aziraphale had been forced to put down the tray in order to open the door. Perhaps he expected the door to be opened for him. 

He longed to hide under the bed, but he knew he would have to face his owner eventually, and it was best not to test the angel’s patience.

"Er. Hello," said Crowley in a shaky voice. He crossed the room and then opened the door. 

Aziraphale looked pleased to see him. "Hello, Crawly." 

Aziraphale held out the mug so that Crowley could take it by the handle. Crowley wondered if holding the mug hurt Aziraphale’s hand – it must be hot - but by some miracle it didn’t seem to bother him. A perk of being an angel, he supposed. 

Hands shaking, Crowley took the mug and then quickly put it down on the nearby desk, scared that he might spill the coffee and get into trouble. He took a few steps away from Aziraphale, watching him warily.

Aziraphale looked at the empty plate. “Oh, you must have been hungry.” A troubled look crossed Aziraphale’s face. 

Crowley’s chest tightened. Was Aziraphale angry with him? Had he eaten too much? Or was he supposed to have cleaned his plate in the bathroom sink? Crowley didn’t know the rules yet.

“Are you still hungry?” Aziraphale asked. “Would you like some more?”

Crowley immediately nodded. He would never turn down extra food. 

“I have some croissants. Would you like to try those?”

Crowley nodded again. 

Aziraphale beamed. “They are one of my favourite foods. I’ll go and get them.” 

Aziraphale picked up the tray from the desk, and then he fetched the tray from the bedside table - which still had the untouched paracetamol on it - before leaving the room. Crowley was glad he had hidden the leftover food for later. 

When Aziraphale returned he had a basket full of croissants in one hand, and a small pile of clothes held tightly against his chest in the other. He placed the clothes on the bed, and then put the little basket on the desk. 

Aziraphale took a croissant for himself. “Help yourself,” he said, gesturing to the basket. “You can keep these up here for when you get peckish.” 

“Thank you,” said Crowley. He picked one up and took a nibble of it. It was very sweet, and he was surprised to find chocolate in the middle. 

Aziraphale gestured to the pile of clothes. “I miracled these up for you. I hope they’re to your taste - and the right size. There are some pyjamas too. I wasn’t sure what you would like but I can miracle up some other clothes if you would like something in particular. Usually I buy them, but I thought this would be easier for now. I can’t leave you with just the one robe.”

Crowley was only half listening as he stared at the clothes. His skin crawled as realisation hit him – this was just an elaborate excuse to make him undress in front of his owner. His fingers dug into the croissant, crumbs dropping to the floor. 

Aziraphale didn’t seem to notice his distress. He pulled a toiletry bag out of the pile of clothes. “There’s a toothbrush in here. Toothpaste, shampoo, shower gel…” He stopped, clicked his fingers, and a hairdryer appeared. “Your hair is so long, I think this will be handy for you. I’ll show you how the shower works, follow me.” 

Crowley placed his croissant on the bedside table, and then followed Aziraphale. He had to resist the urge to run away and hide, terrified that Aziraphale wanted to watch him shower, but Aziraphale only taught him what the various buttons did, and how to change the water temperature. 

“Feel free to use the facilities whenever you like,” Aziraphale said as they returned to the bedroom. “There are some books under the clothes. I thought you might like to look through them. Well. I’ll leave you in peace. Feel free to have a shower, and see if the clothes are suitable for you. I’ll come back at lunch time, alright? I thought we could have lunch together in the kitchen if that’s okay with you?”

Crowley didn’t feel like he could say no. Aziraphale was the one in charge after all. He nodded.

Aziraphale looked delighted. “Lovely! It will be nice for you to see a bit more of the house. I do hate to see you cooped up in here all alone.” 

But Crowley hated the thought of leaving this room. He knew where he could hide here, and he had food tucked away and a water supply. He didn’t want to spend time with Aziraphale. He hated angels.

The silver lining of the brief times he’d spent in the Demon Rehoming House was that he was around other demons. Some of them scared him, Hastur especially, but some of the others tried their best to cheer him up. 

Now he was alone again.

“Well, I’ll come back in a couple of hours. About 12:30. Will you be alright? Do you need anything else?”

“I’m alright,” Crowley said. He just wanted to be left alone.

Aziraphale nodded. “Jolly good. I’ll see you again soon.”

***

Aziraphale smiled as he sat down beside the telephone in the sitting room. 

He was impressed by how much progress Crawly had made in such a short time. He had worried that Crawly would hide from him for weeks, so to have him answer the door had come as a welcome surprise and a relief. Perhaps this would all work out after all, and who knew, perhaps they would even be the best of friends by the end of the week. 

Aziraphale dialled Gabriel’s number again. 

After a short while, Gabriel’s voice answered the telephone. “Hello?”

“It’s me! I’m so glad to have caught you!”

“Who?”

“Aziraphale!”

“Oh! Right. Why didn’t you- oh. Aziraphale, you really need to get a divine mobile phone.”

“I- Yes. But never mind that - this is really important! I’ve got some terrible news.”

“Is this about your little outburst in the Demon Rehoming House?”

Aziraphale opened and closed his mouth a few times, his speech suddenly derailed. “What? No. Listen. Those demons are being treated terribly. We need to do something- and I didn’t have an outburst! I was full of righteous fury! I gave that Manager a good telling off!"

“Yes, he told me. He feels terrible about it actually. He’s worried he might have upset you-”

“He did upset me!”

“-by implying that you wanted a demon for sexual relief. He said he didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

Aziraphale’s face burned. He made an indignant noise. “How dare he! I told him I just wanted a demon for chores! Normal chores! Around the house! Nothing untoward!”

“It’s fine. I’m not judging you. I mean, I don’t understand why an angel would choose to have a sex-drive, let alone want to have sex with a demon. But as long as it’s not messing with your good work, and you’re not having sex with any humans then it’s none of my business what you and your demon get up to.”

“I’m not doing anything like that with my demon!" Aziraphale spluttered. "Anyway, we are getting way off track! The demons are being treated terribly – the manager tried to force my demon to undress! And even worse, he wanted him to do it in front of everyone!”

“You have to understand that demons are very sexual creatures. I’m sure it was nothing the other demons hadn’t seen before.” Gabriel lowered his voice. “I’ve heard they have orgies through the bars. Can you believe it?!”

“But Crawly was scared! He didn’t want to-”

“Listen. Demons are manipulative. He’s trying to make you feel sorry for him. He’ll walk all over you given half a chance. You need to be careful.”

“You don’t understand!” Aziraphale cried, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. “The cells are tiny, and the manager punished another demon by depriving him of food! They need food to survive!”

“Yeah, he mentioned that. A half-ration is still plenty of food for a demon, so don’t worry. And they let the demons out of their cells to stretch their legs every day.”

“He used a divine miracle to throw a demon against a wall!”

“Sometimes violence is the only thing a demon will understand.”

Aziraphale rubbed his fingers between his eyes. “It’s wrong! They’re not being treated right, and we need to do something!” 

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll have someone look into it.”

Hope swelled in Aziraphale’s chest, but deep down he knew that Gabriel had no intention of following through with this. “Please do. And let me know what they say.”

“Yes, yes. Honestly, Aziraphale, I’m sure you’re worrying over nothing. They’re demons – they’re not like us.”

They were once, Aziraphale thought, but he didn’t dare to say it out loud.

***


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Crowley has a nightmare at the end of this chapter (brought on by his fear of sexual abuse) and while he wakes up from it fairly quickly, it still might be triggering for some people.

***

After Aziraphale had gone, Crowley looked through the toiletry bag. A sudden light-headedness washed over him as he realised what all of this was about. 

Aziraphale wanted him to be clean and well presented with minty fresh breath and new clothes. He wanted him to look good for when they had sex together. Perhaps Aziraphale would demand sex before they went down for lunch. Maybe he would refuse to feed him if he didn’t do what he wanted first. 

And what would Aziraphale want him to do? They were both men - or at least men shaped creatures - what if Aziraphale wanted to have anal sex with him? Crowley had never done that before. He was scared it would hurt. Besides, he didn’t want to do it with an angel. 

He reminded himself that Aziraphale had said that he wouldn’t hurt him. He thought of when he had woken up to find Aziraphale touching his forehead – healing him he had said – and Crowley believed him. The pain hadn’t been as bad as it usually was when he woke up, and he recovered fairly quickly.

But would Aziraphale use his healing powers to stop him from feeling pain while he made use of him? Crowley didn’t know what to expect. He had not been told what chores were expected of him. So far, Aziraphale had done his own cooking, and presumably, his own washing up. Crowley couldn’t help but feel that he was here for sex alone. Even if Aziraphale didn’t force him, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be coerced into it.

Crowley knew it was in his best interest to do everything in his power to keep his owner happy. Aziraphale had been kind and friendly so far, but there was no telling how long that would last. It was possible that he was only being friendly as a way of flirting with him. 

If Aziraphale made it clear that he expected to be shown a good time when he came back before lunch, maybe he could get away with just using his hands or even his mouth. He’d done that before, and he’d even liked it. 

Sometimes, in the Demon Rehoming House, whichever demon happened to be in the cell next to him would comfort him when he was upset. They would hold him through the bars, whisper gently to him, rub his back. Sometimes, when they had something resembling privacy - when they could hide beneath their wings, or the demons in the nearby cages were asleep – they’d pleasure each other through the bars. He enjoyed it. It was a welcome distraction, a little bit of pleasure when everything else seemed bleak. But more than anything, it was something to do. 

The choice had been his to make. There had been bars between them, and he had been able to say no if he wasn’t in the mood. If he did those things for Aziraphale, it would be different. But he knew he had to do whatever it took to keep his owner happy or he would be punished.

Despite Aziraphale’s promise not to hurt him, it was possible that Aziraphale would lose his temper and end up hurting him anyway. Promises were nothing more than words.

Crowley’s hands were shaking as he undressed, and then got in the shower. 

Afterwards, he tried on all of the clothes. Most of them fit him well enough, although some were a little baggy. There was a robe, similar to what he had worn for the past 6000 years, and several sets of human style clothes. He felt drawn to the robe, as that was the style he had always worn, but Aziraphale seemed to favour human clothes so he felt that would be the safest bet. He wanted to keep Aziraphale happy.

He put on some black trousers and a long sleeved shirt. The trousers felt weird. He wasn’t used to having his legs covered and it felt odd, though he supposed he would get used to it with time.

He sat at the desk and waited anxiously for the angel to come for him. He flicked through the books, trying to find one to read, but he felt too on edge and couldn’t concentrate on the words. Then he found that one of the books was full of pictures. 

It was titled, ‘Constable,’ and the paintings were mostly of countryside landscapes. This book was a welcome distraction, and he flicked through the pages, utterly mesmerised by the stunning artwork. 

Crowley missed the outdoors. He hadn't been outside since becoming a demon, and he had never been outside on Earth. Neither of his previous owners had allowed him to leave the house. 

With his first owner, Michael, he at least had views from the windows both upstairs and downstairs, but with his last owner, he had spent most of his time in the basement. It was only when he was allowed upstairs that he was occasionally able to see out of the windows.

Crowley spun around in his chair to face the window above the head of his bed. The view was obscured by heavy curtains, and his heart leapt at the thought that he might have a view of the human world from his very bedroom. 

He ran across and threw open the curtains. 

Directly below him was a little patio with a table and two chairs. Ivy grew across the high wall opposite, and beyond that he could see rooftops, tree tops, and a blue sky dotted with clouds. The sun was shining.

Crowley gasped, amazed that he was able to see such a beautiful view, let alone from his bedroom window. 

He tried the latch on the sash window and was shocked when it unfastened and he was able to slide the window open. He tried to reach out through the window but the action was blocked by an invisible barrier. There was a ward on the window, just like he had been told was on the door.

But he would never try to escape. He knew that if other angels found an escaped demon, then their owner would get the proverbial slap on the wrist but the demon would be destroyed with holy water. No second chances. And no matter what happened to him, Crowley wanted to live.

A breeze swept past him, and Crowley let out a gasp. He had not felt the breeze for thousands of years. He closed his eyes and savoured the sensation of it. 

A knock on the door dragged him back to reality.

Crowley froze, terrified that Aziraphale was going to burst in and assume he was trying to escape. He fumbled desperately with the window, trying to get it closed. 

Luckily, Aziraphale didn’t open the door. “Hello, Crawly. Can I come in?”

Crowley was glad that Aziraphale had this odd habit of asking permission to enter the room. He finally got the window closed.

“Y- Yes. I’m coming…” Crowley said, assuming that Aziraphale wanted him to open the door again. 

He opened the door, and Aziraphale gave him a quick glance up and down, a smile on his face. Crowley’s stomach twisted into a knot as he felt the angel’s eyes on him, inspecting him. Crowley’s shoulders hunched. These clothes were more fitted than he was used to, and he felt on show.

“That outfit looks nice. Do you like it?”

Crowley lowered his eyes to the floor. “Yes. Thank you.”

“How are the other clothes? I can alter them with a miracle if they don’t fit right. Or if you don’t like them.”

“They’re all perfect,” Crowley said quickly. “Thank you.”

Crowley’s heart was racing, scared of what was going to happen next. He glanced up at Aziraphale to see if he could read his intentions on his face. 

The angel looked embarrassed, a slight blush to his cheeks, but then he looked away, his eyes falling on the open book on the desk.

“Oh! You’ve been looking at the work of John Constable. Do you like his paintings?”

Crowley nodded. 

“He was a wonderful artist. Nice fellow, I met him a few times.”

Crowley fiddled with the sleeve of his shirt. “Thank you for allowing me to look at your books.”

“You’re very welcome. I have lots of books, and you are more than welcome to look through them.”

Crowley thanked him again in a small voice. 

“Oh! You finished all of your croissants! You must have been very hungry indeed! Do you still have room for lunch?”

“Yes!” said Crowley quickly, frightened that Aziraphale would think he had eaten too much and would refuse to let him have any lunch. He was starting to regret hiding all of the croissants under the bed.

“I didn’t realise demons have such big appetites. Well, you can have as much lunch as you fancy and if you can’t finish it, that’s alright.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Shall we go downstairs for lunch now? Or I can bring your food up here if you would prefer? Please don’t be nervous, Crawly. I’m not so bad really. It’s up to you, whichever makes you feel more comfortable.” 

“I- I’ll go downstairs with you for lunch,” Crowley said, wanting to keep on Aziraphale’s good side.

Aziraphale beamed. “Marvellous. I’ll just drop the ward on the door… There we go. Ready?”

Crowley nodded. He felt confused, but also relieved. It looked like Aziraphale didn’t want sex right now after all. He followed Aziraphale cautiously through the doorway.

Aziraphale led the way down a long and narrow corridor. Crowley trailed behind him, eyes darting all around as though expecting something or someone to jump out at him. He glanced at the old, dusty paintings that were dotted on the walls. 

“This is my bedroom,” Aziraphale said, gesturing to a closed door. 

Crowley’s stomach flipped. For a horrible moment he thought they were going to go in there, but Aziraphale walked straight past. Aziraphale gestured to another door. “And this is the sitting room, although, to be honest, I spend most of my time downstairs. I run a bookshop you see. The flat is above it.”

Crowley froze. “A shop? Are there people downstairs?”

“No,” Aziraphale reassured him. “Not right now anyway. The shop is closed, and I’ll keep it closed for a while.”

They went down the stairs and then along another narrow corridor until they emerged into a small kitchen. In one corner was a table and chairs. The table was piled high with food. There were two loaves of bread – one white and one brown – and a multitude of sandwich meats, cheeses, jams and salads. It was more food than the two of them could ever manage between them.

I thought we could have sandwiches,” Aziraphale said. “I wasn’t sure what fillings you like, so there’s several to choose from.” A panicked look crossed Aziraphale’s face. “Do you like sandwiches? I’m sure I can rustle up something else if not.”

“I like sandwiches,” Crowley said. He didn’t have much of an appetite at the moment – he felt too nervous - but the sight of so much food and choice was making his mouth water. 

“Oh! I’m glad,” Aziraphale said with relief. He picked up a plate and handed one to Crowley. “Help yourself.”

Crowley was not used to making decisions for himself like this. It took him a long time to decide what he wanted, but eventually he made a ham and cheese sandwich. 

Aziraphale had sat down at the table with a tuna and egg sandwich in front of him. Crowley stood awkwardly with his plate, unsure of where he was supposed to sit. There was only one table in this room and Aziraphale was already sat at it. Was he supposed to sit on the floor?

Aziraphale gestured for Crowley to join him at the table, and he did so wearily. He had never eaten at the same table as an angel before – at least, not since becoming a demon – and he felt like he was acting above his station. But Aziraphale seemed to like sitting with him. Perhaps Aziraphale didn’t know it was inappropriate for them to eat together. 

Now that they had both sat down, Aziraphale started to ask him various questions. Was he okay? Did he need anything else? Was his room warm enough? Crowley assured him that everything was fine.

Once Aziraphale had finished asking questions, they started to eat. Crowley ate fairly slowly, nervous as he was, and he might have been self-conscious about it had Aziraphale not been an even slower eater than he was. 

Aziraphale savoured every bite, and he repeatedly stopped in order to chat. He was extremely talkative once he got going, and he talked animatedly about his bookshop, which Crowley soon learnt made up the rest of the downstairs. 

“Through that door is the shop, and through that other door is the backroom, which is where I keep my rarest books - mostly bibles and books of prophesy. I’ll show you the bookshop another time, when you’re more settled.” 

Crowley nodded. He could tell how important Aziraphale’s books were to him and knew it would be a while before he was trusted enough to be allowed in the shop, let alone in the backroom where he kept the rare books. 

The more Aziraphale talked about the bookshop, the more confused Crowley felt. Aziraphale allowed the general public - humans - into the shop, but he didn't actually want to part with any of the books. He did everything in his power to put people off buying them, including musty smells, erratic opening hours, extortionate prices and a confusing shelving system.

Crowley thought this was all extremely odd, and couldn't understand why he allowed people into the shop in the first place.

Eventually, despite his nervousness, Crowley's curiosity got the better of him. "Why do you have to open your bookshop to the humans?"

Aziraphale thought about it for a moment. "It's part of my disguise as a human. It helps me to blend in."

Crowley nodded.

"Also..." Aziraphale continued with a thoughtful look on his face, "It’s nice to have humans come in for a chat - when they're not trying to buy my first editions, that is!" Aziraphale let out a chuckle. 

Crowley laughed too, wanting to please Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale smiled at him. "It’s nice having you here to talk to."

Crowley smiled back. Perhaps Aziraphale really had bought him because he was lonely and wanted someone to talk to. Perhaps he really meant it when he said he didn’t want a demon for sex. 

And yet, Crowley couldn't shake the feeling that Aziraphale was only being nice in order to get him into bed. He wasn't used to angel's showing any friendliness towards him, and the way Aziraphale was making conversation with him made him feel uncomfortable. If he was being kind to him, it was for a reason - it was because he wanted something in return.

Once they had finished eating, Aziraphale started to clear away the food that they had not eaten, returning it to the fridge or the cupboards. Crowley had to resist the urge to hide some food away in his pockets.

Aziraphale scraped the plates over the bin and then put them on the side next to the sink. Crowley was not used to seeing angels performing such menial tasks. It felt wrong. He should be doing these things. Why wasn’t Aziraphale making him do it? 

Crowley thought back to when Michael was his owner. Back then, he used to do the washing up after every meal. 

“Would you like me to do the washing up?” Crowley asked in a small voice, wanting to prove himself useful.

Aziraphale smiled. “Oh, yes please, Crawly. Thank you.” 

Crowley crept to the sink, which was right in front of a window with a perfect view of the same little courtyard that Crowley could see from his bedroom window. As he did the washing up he gazed outside longingly before quickly focussing all of his attention back on the task at hand. The washing up didn’t take long, especially with Aziraphale drying everything and putting it all away.

“Thank you for your help,” Aziraphale said once they had finished. “I must confess that sometimes I use miracles to do things like this. But they keep an eye on my miracle count and I’ve done quite a few recently so this really helps me out.” 

Crowley was very aware that Aziraphale had been performing miracles for him - creating clothes from raw firmament and using his healing powers – and he didn’t want Aziraphale to get into trouble and then take it out on him. 

“I’m good at housework,” Crowley said quickly. “I can do lots of things you might use miracles for. Cleaning and washing clothes. And tidying.”

“Oh, thank you! I could really do with some help around the place. Maybe another time though - it is your first day here after all. I thought it would be nice to retire upstairs to the sitting room and just relax for the rest of the day.” 

As Crowley followed Aziraphale upstairs, he wondered, nervously, what Aziraphale meant by 'relax.'

The sitting room contained a sofa and two armchairs with a coffee table between them, but the first thing Crowley noticed was the huge bookcase that took up an entire wall and was full to the brim with books. Everything in the room looked old and worn but also comfortable, as though Aziraphale had decorated it during the Victorian era and had never bothered to update it - save for the television which was the only modern thing that Crowley could see.

Everything was slightly dusty, and Crowley itched to clean the place and show his worth, but that would have to wait. Aziraphale wanted him to relax after all. 

Aziraphale told him that he could help himself to any of the books whenever he wanted, and to feel free to browse and see if anything took his fancy. After a few minutes, Crowley found another art book, and took it with him to an armchair opposite the one Aziraphale had already settled in. 

Aziraphale picked up a novel with a bookmark in it from a table beside his chair.

Crowley looked down at his own book. The artist was called Lawrence Alma-Tadema and most of the paintings were of humans dressed in robes lounging on marble benches in front of sparkling oceans. The world these humans lived in looked so beautiful, extravagant and serene that Crowley was instantly lost in it.

Silence descended on the room, and every time Crowley turned a page it seemed deafeningly loud but Aziraphale didn't look up from his novel even once. 

Hours passed by and Crowley read about the artist as well as gazing at the pictures. He was on the last few pages when Aziraphale shifted in his seat and Crowley jumped, his whole body tensing. He watched the angel nervously.

Aziraphale looked thoughtful. "What would you like for dinner?"

Crowley felt put on the spot, and didn’t know how to reply.

Aziraphale smiled. "I was thinking we could get something delivered. How about pizza? Or Chinese food? Would you like either of those?"

Crowley nodded. "Yes please."

"Any preference between pizza and Chinese food?"

He shook his head. It would be best for Aziraphale to decide.

"Let's have pizza then."

Aziraphale showed him a menu and yet again, he felt overwhelmed by choice. He'd never had so much say over what he ate before. In the end, he went for a chicken, bacon and mushroom pizza, swayed in part by the thought of more bacon.

Aziraphale ordered the food over the phone and it arrived not long after. They put away their books - Aziraphale was worried about sticky fingers - and then Aziraphale switched on the television.

There was a documentary about life in the ocean, and Crowley was immediately captivated.

He had been with his last owner for about a hundred years, and there had been a television in the living room for the past sixty. Sometimes, when he was allowed upstairs, he caught a glimpse of a television programme. His owner thought most television was just human nonsense and so only watched things that might be of historical significance or which might help the divine cause.

Crowley had always been fascinated by television, all the way back to when it had been in black and white, but he had only ever caught snippets while he was doing his chores - usually parts of news broadcasts. He had once seen a few minutes of the moon landing. He had never been allowed to sit down and actually watch something, and any time he was caught ogling the television instead of doing his chores he would be punished. Even now, he half expected his old owner to come barging in, shouting furiously, and then drag him away to punish him.

Despite feeling like he was doing something wrong, he found himself starting to relax, until, soon, all that existed were the dolphins on the screen. 

Despite his enjoyment, he found his eyelids growing heavy. He glanced at Aziraphale, who had gone back to reading his book after they had finished eating. As tired as he was, Crowley didn’t want to go to bed, but it wasn't just because he was enjoying watching television. He was scared that Aziraphale wanted more from him than he felt able to give. He stared at the television, trying to ignore his sleepiness and nerves, but as evening turned into night, he felt sure that Aziraphale was going to want to take him to bed. 

Soon, Aziraphale finished his book and returned it to the bookshelf. He glanced at the clock on the wall. "My goodness, it's gone midnight! Perhaps I'll turn into a pumpkin!"

Crowley laughed though he didn't get the joke. 

"You can go to bed whenever you're ready. You certainly look sleepy. The manual said you would need about eight hours?"

Crowley nodded.

"I'm going to go downstairs to my bookshop. I've been working on some book restorations. If you need me, just pop downstairs and give me a shout. Feel free to carry on watching television if you wish. But try not to stay up too late."

Crowley nodded again.

"Is there anything you need? Please tell me if I've forgotten something."

Crowley shook his head.

Aziraphale quickly showed him how to turn off the television - for when he decided to go to bed - and then Aziraphale headed for the door. He hesitated in the doorway. "You've done very well today. A lot has happened to you recently, and I- Well. I think you've been very brave. I'm proud of you."

A memory, long forgotten, came back to Crowley. Of the Almighty admiring the stars he had helped create, and saying, 'I'm proud of you.’ That was the last time anyone had ever said those words to him.

There was a lump in Crowley's throat. Somehow, he felt happy and sad at the same time. "Thank you."

Aziraphale smiled. "Shall we have breakfast together in the kitchen tomorrow morning? Would that be alright? I understand if you need some time to yourself and whatnot. I'm happy to go at your pace."

"Breakfast in the kitchen sounds nice."

Aziraphale beamed. "Jolly good. I'll come and fetch you. But not too early - you've had a long day, after all, and I don’t want to interrupt your sleep. Good night, Crawly."

"Good night."

Aziraphale left, leaving the door ajar behind him. Crowley listened to his footsteps descending the stairs, unable to believe he was leaving him unattended in his sitting room. 

He wondered how much of the house he would be able to explore before being stopped by wards or getting caught. But he wouldn't dare be so reckless or to take advantage of the freedom and trust he had been given.

He couldn't quite make Aziraphale out. Was it all an act? He seemed too good to be true.

He started to entertain the idea that Aziraphale really had no ill will towards him, but the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like hopeful thinking. He was probably just being nice to put him at ease.

Not long after Aziraphale had left, exhaustion got the better of Crowley. He switched off the television and the lights before going to his bedroom. He closed his bedroom door and then got ready for bed, putting on the pajamas Aziraphale had given him.

Crowley lay in bed but he couldn't sleep. He listened for footsteps on the stairs, scared that Aziraphale was going to come for him. Or, maybe Aziraphale would go straight to his own bedroom, and expect Crowley to come to him and offer himself. 

Crowley didn't know what he was supposed to do.

He decided, either way, that it was in his best interest to not go to Aziraphale. After all, Aziraphale had said that he wouldn't take advantage of him so he might be offended if he offered himself up.

Crowley waited and waited for the footsteps on the stairs but they never came, and eventually he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

***

Crowley dreamt.

There were footsteps on the stairs. There was a knock at the door, and a voice asking to come in.

Crowley lay there, frozen with fear, unable to get his voice out. He silently pleaded for Aziraphale to go away and leave him alone. 

But Aziraphale didn't. He came in and sat on the edge of the bed. "You've been so good today, Crawly,” he whispered. "I think you deserve a treat."

Hands were immediately on him, trying to get under his clothes. Crowley yelped, pulling away. He backed away into the corner.

"Come on now, it's okay," Aziraphale said gently. "I'll make sure it feels good for you too, I promise."

Crowley shook his head. He trembled as Aziraphale reached out towards him again.

"It won't hurt, if that's what you're worried about. I did say I would never hurt you. I have healing powers, remember? I can make sure you won't feel any pain at all. Come on now, I want you so badly. Don't be coy."

"I don't want to," Crowley said, his voice shaking, barely above a whisper. He felt helpless. He started to cry.

Aziraphale’s friendly mask fell away, replaced by anger. "Don't act like you're a delicate virgin! Everyone knows demons are gagging for it. What's the matter? Aren't I pretty enough?" 

"I- I- I can’t-"

Hands found him again and Crowley cried out as he struggled to get away. But Aziraphale was stronger. His owners were always so much stronger. 

"How dare you! After everything I’ve done for you! Everything I gave you! You ungrateful brat!"

Crowley woke up, gasping for breath, and then he sat up. He felt disorientated, unsure of where he was at first. 

He sat there, shaking, until slowly, quietly, he climbed down from the bed and hid underneath it, taking the duvet with him and wedging himself at the back against the wall. 

***


	4. Chapter 4

***

Crowley awoke hours later, feeling thirsty and hungry. It was dark under the bed but when he emerged the sun was shining brightly through a gap in the curtains.

It had taken Crowley a long time to get back to sleep after his nightmare, but when he did, he dreamt of flying away through the window and dashing away over rooftops with the wind in his hair and under his wings.

A quick glance at the clock on the wall told him it was 10am. He had not meant to sleep this late, no wonder he felt so hungry. 

He filled up a glass with water from the bathroom and then grabbed a few biscuits from under his bed. 

He wondered what time Aziraphale would fetch him for breakfast. He had said it wouldn’t be too early because he didn’t want to interrupt his sleep, but it was getting late already. Crowley had visions of Aziraphale coming up here at regular intervals and sensing - with his angelic powers - that he was still asleep and going away again. 

Crowley was glad to have some time to himself, but the longer he waited for Aziraphale, the more worried he became. Perhaps he had missed his chance. Perhaps Aziraphale was angry that he had slept the morning away, and would not allow him to have breakfast. Or maybe Aziraphale had already grown bored of him.

Before long it was twelve o’clock, and Crowley was so hungry he couldn’t wait any longer. He unwrapped his leftover breakfast from the day before and devoured it. It looked nowhere near as appetising as it had, and it didn’t taste as good either, but it filled his belly all the same and he felt better for it. 

Crowley opened the door and waved a hand out into the hall, surprised to find that the ward was still down. He peered out, but he didn’t dare leave his bedroom. 

He wondered if Aziraphale had gone to bed in the early hours and was still asleep. He had been told that he could shout for Aziraphale if he needed anything, but he didn’t dare do it.

There was the sound of hurried footsteps coming up the stairs, and Crowley quickly but silently closed the door and backed away.

“Crawly?” Aziraphale cried breathlessly before he had even reached his bedroom. “Crawly?” he said again as he knocked on the door. “I’m so terribly sorry! I didn’t realise the time! Can I come in?”

Crowley opened the door for him. 

The angel was wringing his hands together and had guilt plastered all over his face. “I’m so sorry! I was restoring my books, and then the next thing I knew it was midday! You must be absolutely ravenousness. I’m so sorry I made you wait so long. Come along, and let’s get you something to eat.” 

Crowley’s original fears that this had all been some sort of punishment were quelled by Aziraphale’s obvious shame and remorse. Aziraphale was still apologising as they went downstairs. Crowley wasn’t used to his owners feeling guilty, and he certainly wasn’t used to them apologising to him. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond. 

“It’s okay,” said Crowley. “I had some biscuits left over, so I ate those.” 

Crowley’s heart raced. He didn’t want Aziraphale to know how much food he had squirreled away in case Aziraphale took it away from him, but Aziraphale didn’t seem to mind. In fact he seemed pleased. 

“Oh! That’s a relief. I’m glad you’ve had something at least.”

They entered the kitchen and Aziraphale put all of the sandwich supplies on the table while Crowley got plates from the cupboard. Soon they were both sat at the table with their sandwiches. 

“I know how important food is for you, Crawly,” Aziraphale said, his voice full of shame. “I’ll make sure this never happens again. Please know that you can get food from these cupboards whenever you’re hungry. There’s biscuits and cereal in that cupboard over there. Please feel free to pop down to the kitchen in the morning as soon as you fancy breakfast. I hate the thought of you being hungry. And you can get things out of the fridge too, though not the bottom shelf – we’ll keep that for meals I am planning to make for the both of us. But everything else is up for grabs. Just try not to eat too much before meal times.”

“I- Thank you,” Crowley said, shocked that Aziraphale would allow this, though he wasn’t sure he would be brave enough to take Aziraphale up on his offer. What if he accidently did something wrong?

After lunch they put everything away and Crowley did the washing up again, enjoying looking out of the window.

Aziraphale switched on the electric kettle. “Would you like a drink? How about tea or coffee?”

“Tea please,” Crowley said. “I can make the drinks if you like.”

“Oh, yes please. I’ll show you how I take my tea.” 

Crowley found himself reminded of how he used to make tea and coffee for Michael. The process was pretty much the same, despite it being over a hundred years ago. The only difference was that back then he’d used a kettle that went on the stove, and now the kettle was electric and boiled in a fraction of the time. 

Aziraphale picked up his cup of tea from the counter top, and then gazed outside. “What a lovely day. Perhaps we could go outside with our drinks? Would that be alright with you, Crawly?”

Crowley’s heart pounded. He nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, please. I’d like to go outside.”

Aziraphale unlocked the door and then stepped outside. He turned around and lowered the ward so that Crowley could follow him. 

“Don’t forget to bring your drink with you,” Aziraphale said. 

Crowley picked up his teacup, his hands trembling, and then he moved towards the open door.

He stood in the doorway with his drink while Aziraphale pulled the little table and chairs into the shade. 

Crowley stepped outside for the first time in six thousand years. He could feel the breeze, and the warmth of the sun on his skin. He could hear traffic and birds chirping, the sound no longer muffled by closed windows and doors. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes, and his breath hitched.

Aziraphale got the table into position. “Come and sit in the shade with me- Oh! Oh, Crawly, are you okay? You don’t need to come outside if you don’t want to.”

Crowley took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. “I- I’m okay. I want to come outside. I just- I’ve not been outside in a very long time.” 

He took several slow and deliberate steps across the patio, staring at the paving, and then he moved towards Aziraphale. His hands were still shaking as he put his teacup on the table and sat down, feeling overwhelmed. 

“Crawly? Are you sure you’re okay?”

Crowley looked all around him. There was no grass, except for what was trying to grow in between the paving stones. A few raised flower beds and flower pots sat in the corners, though they were mostly empty and neglected. 

Crowley smiled. It was the first genuinely happy smile that he’d had for a long time. “I’m okay. This is good. I like being outside.” 

Aziraphale gave him a cheerful smile. “I’m glad.”

Crowley admired some plants growing in one of the flower beds. “Those yellow flowers are nice.”

“Oh, they’re weeds technically, but now you mention it, dandelions are rather pretty. Feel free to have a look around the garden if you like.”

Crowley got up, and went over to the dandelions. Next, he looked at the ivy that covered a wall, and then a spider in the centre of a web. He reached a hand out towards a large leaf but then he hesitated. He looked back towards Aziraphale for permission.

“You can touch the plants. Just be careful not to upset any of the creatures.”

“Thanks.” Crowley held a leaf between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing it, amazed by the texture. “Wow. I never touched a plant before.”

Aziraphale looked surprised by this information. 

“Can I touch the dandelion too, please?”

“Yes, you can touch any of the plants you like.”

Crowley made his way around the courtyard, touching the plants. He found some flowers that he recognised from television or illustrated books, like a white daisy that was growing through a gap in the patio stones. Aziraphale freely offered up the names of the plants which he didn’t recognise. 

“I like the leaves on this one. What did you call it?”

“Clover.”

Crowley moved away from the flowerbed containing the clover to stare at a beetle as it scuttled across a wooden gate that blocked off a narrow passageway. It had a lock on it. 

“That leads to the street,” Aziraphale told him.

Crowley stepped closer to Aziraphale, full of questions, his fear of his owner outweighed by his curiosity. “The street? Are there people out there? Human people?”

“Yes. This street has lots of shops on it, and it can get rather busy.”

“I never met a human before. Are they the same as on television?”

“I suppose. Would you like to meet a human one day?” 

Crowley thought about it for a moment, and then he nodded. “Yeah, I think so. One day.”

“Maybe, when you’re ready, we could go for a walk out there together.”

“Out there?” Crowley said in amazement, glancing at the gate. “I think I would like that. I’d like to see the human world. I’ve only ever seen it on television and through windows. Thank you for letting me outside today.” Crowley tried to sound casual, as though this wasn’t the best thing that had happened to him in thousands of years. 

“I’m glad you like it out here,” Aziraphale said with a smile. He glanced around at the plant pots. “I do feel I’ve neglected this poor little patio. Perhaps I should invest in some new plants. Would you like to help me tidy up and plant flowers one day?”

Crowley nodded eagerly. 

“Do you have any favourite plants?”

Crowley paused to think about it. “I- I don’t know.”

“I have some botanical books inside which you might enjoy looking through. And if there’s a plant you really like, I’ll do my best to get hold of it for you so we can plant it in the garden.”

Crowley gasped, amazed that an angel would do this for him. At the back of his mind he wondered what Aziraphale would want in return - there was always a catch – but he smiled nonetheless. “Thank you.”

Later, they went upstairs to the sitting room, and Aziraphale took down some books about plants from the huge bookshelf and handed them to Crowley. Aziraphale then went down into his bookshop and came back with another armful to add to the pile. 

“See if any of these books take your fancy.”

Crowley chose a few books – mostly the ones with the most pictures – and sat down with them on the sofa. Aziraphale sat at a desk by the window, explaining that he had to write up a report about his latest divine work among the humans.

Crowley was mesmerised by the colourful photos of plants. While he flicked through the pages he listened to the scratching of Aziraphale’s pen on paper. 

Occasionally the scratching stopped and Aziraphale would stare thoughtfully out of the window, or turn to ask Crowley if he was alright, and if he was enjoying the books. They stopped for lunch, and then moments after Aziraphale had gotten back to his work and picked up his pen, he set it down again and declared that he was going to go downstairs and make them both a hot drink.

“I can do it,” Crowley offered. Aziraphale took him up on this offer, though there was an odd reluctance behind it, and Crowley couldn’t help but suspect that Aziraphale was trying to procrastinate. 

Not long after, Crowley handed Aziraphale a cup of tea.

“Oh thank you, my dear.”

“You’re welcome,” Crowley said after a moment, bewildered that anyone would describe him as being ‘dear’ in any way whatsoever. 

“Have you seen any plants you like in the books? Do you have a favourite?”

“I think the dragon plant is my favourite,” Crowley said, picking up one of the books and then opening it to the correct page - he had memorised the page number. He showed the picture to Aziraphale. The plant had long, thin and pointy leaves which were green with bright red edges. 

“Oh! Very elegant,” said Aziraphale. “I’ll try to find one for you.”

Crowley couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “Really? Thank you.” 

Aziraphale went back to his writing, and almost an hour later he folded the paper up and popped it into an envelope. 

“I must drop this off at head office,” Aziraphale said. “Will you be alright if I nip out for a couple of hours? I’ll be as quick as I can.”

Crowley nodded. 

“Jolly good. I was thinking of picking up some fish and chips on the way home for dinner. Do you like fish and chips?”

Crowley nodded again. He had made his own chips by slicing up potatoes when Michael was his owner, and he had eaten all sorts of fish and enjoyed it. 

“Perfect. Feel free to watch television or read a book - whatever you would like to do.” Aziraphale paused. A nervous smile pulled at his mouth. “I hope you’ve had an alright time here so far. I want you to feel at home.” 

“I… Yes. Thank you,” Crowley said, wanting Aziraphale to know that he was appreciative of everything he had done for him so far. He had been allowed to read, watch television and eat delicious food. He had even been allowed outside. 

Aziraphale’s smile widened, and then he said his goodbyes and left.

After a few minutes, Crowley put down the botanical book, picked up their teacups and then carried them downstairs carefully. 

In a distant part of the building he heard a door close and the tinkle of a bell. That must have been the front door closing as Aziraphale left. 

As Crowley washed and dried the cups, he looked out of the window at the patio, remembering how wonderful it had been to go outside. He hoped Aziraphale would let him go out there again soon. 

Through the centuries, Crowley had always felt safest whenever his owners were out, and he felt no differently now. It was exhausting, constantly being on guard and trying to pre-empt an angel’s wishes. This was the only time he could truly relax. 

After putting the teacups away, he decided to explore. He looked in all of the cupboards, careful not to disturb anything, and then he went upstairs, pausing to admire every picture on the walls as he went past. He looked around the sitting room, then, his heart racing, he went to stand outside of Aziraphale’s bedroom door. He was tempted to peek inside but he was terrified that he would get into trouble. Something occurred to him, and he touched the door, looking for a ward. He was surprised when his hand met no resistance. It shocked him that Aziraphale would not ward his own bedroom, but from what Crowley had learnt so far, Aziraphale tended to stay up all night anyway so maybe he didn’t like sleeping. 

His curiosity got the better of him, and he tried the door handle. He was amazed when the door started to open– 

-and then his hand bumped into an invisible ward which lay just on other side of the door.

The door carried on opening into the room, the handle slipping out of his grasp. His heart jumped into his throat as he scrambled to grab the handle again, but the door had already swung open too far into the room, and he couldn’t reach it with the ward in the way. Although the door was only open by a couple of feet, it was enough that it would be obvious that he had been trying to get in.

Crowley made a panicked noise, terrified that Aziraphale was going to react violently when he realised. 

He had to get this door closed somehow, and fast. 

He raced into his bedroom and searched through his clothes with shaking hands until he found a scarf. He tied the ends together to make a sort of lasso, and then raced back into the hall. 

It took him a distressing number of tries, but eventually he managed to hook the door handle with the scarf and pull the door closed. 

He went back into his bedroom, untied the scarf and then returned it to his wardrobe. 

He threw himself down onto the bed, utterly exhausted. He lay there for a while, listening to his own ragged panting until his breathing levelled out and he became aware of a tapping sound against the window. He sat up to see what was making the noise. 

Rain was pattering against the glass. 

Crowley had seen rain before, but only through windows, he had never had the opportunity to feel it. 

Trembling with anticipation, Crowley opened the window and breathed in deeply, intoxicated by the new smell. Tiny droplets of rain fell onto his hands as he pressed them against the ward, and more dripped onto the window sill. He tasted the rain on his fingers, and then he moved his face closer to the window.

He realised that he might be able to get closer to the rain if he went into the kitchen, and so he closed the window and then dashed downstairs, full of excitement.

Once in the kitchen, he looked at the clock. Aziraphale hadn’t even been gone an hour yet, and he said he would be away for a couple of hours.

Heart pounding in his chest, Crowley turned the key and was surprised when the door unlocked. He tried the door handle, keeping a firm grip this time as the door swung open, expecting his hand to be stopped by a ward, but it wasn't. He reached outside. There was no ward. Rain droplets fell onto his sleeve and his bare hand.

He could go outside in the rain if he wanted to. There was no one here to stop him, and it was only a light drizzle so he wouldn’t get too wet. He wanted to know what it felt like to stand in the rain.

He shouldn’t do it. Aziraphale would be angry if he caught him, and yet he found himself stepping outside anyway, unable to resist, giddy with the thrill of it.

The water felt cool against his skin. He looked up and saw rain spiralling down towards him, it fell on his eyelashes, and then he opened his mouth and let the rain fall on his tongue. 

It was like being in a shower, and yet, at the same time, it felt nothing like that at all. 

He savoured this new experience, and he could have happily stayed outside in the rain much longer, but he decided to go back inside before he got soaked through. Besides, he was scared Aziraphale would come back early and catch him. 

He locked the door again, and then went upstairs. He dried his hair, face and clothes on a towel, and then he used the hair dryer just to be sure that there was no evidence of what he had done. Aziraphale would never know.

Kneeling on the bed, Crowley gazed out of the window at the rain and felt triumphant. He had won a small victory. He, a demon, had managed to do something naughty without an angel knowing. He felt wonderfully wicked.

He heard the sound of a distant door opening within the shop, and looked over at the clock on the wall. Aziraphale had only been gone for an hour and a half. It was just as well he hadn’t spent any longer outside. 

As Crowley made his way downstairs he ran his fingers through his hair – perfectly dry. 

As Crowley reached the bottom of the stairs, a door in the hallway opened and Aziraphale stepped through carrying a white, plastic bag. He saw Crowley and smiled. “Good timing! Here," Aziraphale said, holding out the plastic bag towards him. "The fish and chips. Please take them through to the kitchen and I’ll join you in a moment.” 

Crowley took the bag and started towards the kitchen while Aziraphale turned around and went back through the doorway. Aziraphale did not close the door behind him, and Crowley slowed down to peer into the dark room beyond. He saw a wall of books, and then he refocused his attention on his task and marched away into the kitchen. 

Through the window, Crowley could see that the rain was now coming down full force. He wondered how on Earth Aziraphale was still dry, but supposed that was easy for someone who could perform miracles.

Crowley placed the bag on the kitchen table and peered inside. The bag contained two small parcels wrapped in paper. He could smell the fish and chips within and it made his mouth water. 

Crowley turned around to face Aziraphale as he came into the room, and his eyes widened. Aziraphale was carrying a huge potted plant in his arms. It was a dragon plant.

“I got you one of those dragon trees you said you like.”

Crowley stared at the plant, unable to believe Aziraphale had done this for him. He was so overcome with emotion that for a moment he couldn’t speak.

The plant was placed on the floor with a heavy thump. 

Aziraphale straightened up. “Phew! Maybe I ought to have bought one of the smaller ones! But I did think this one was rather impressive. Slight change of plan though - the lady in the shop said they do better indoors, especially with English weather. Would you like to have it in your bedroom?”

Crowley opened and closed his mouth a few times.

“Or- You don’t have to,” Aziraphale said. “I suppose it would take up quite a lot of space. We could keep it in the sitting room upstairs if you prefer? I bought the plant for you. It’s yours. So you can keep it wherever you would like it.”

“It- It’s for me?”

"Of course, my dear. I hope you like it."

"I- yes. I like it a lot. Thank you." Crowley moved towards the plant and touched the leaves, amazed that anyone would do something this kind for him.

“The taxi driver was rather surprised when I showed up with it!” Aziraphale said with a chuckle. “It would only just fit in the rear foot well.” 

A taxi - so that explained how Aziraphale had managed to keep himself dry. 

Aziraphale went quiet. He was staring thoughtfully at the tiled flooring by the back door. Crowley followed his gaze, and his heart almost stopped.

There were wet footprints by the backdoor. 

Aziraphale had come in through the shop itself so it was clear that the footprints were not his.

Crowley felt paralysed with fear. How could he have been so stupid? Especially after putting so much effort into drying himself. 

“Did you go outside in the rain, Crawly?” Aziraphale asked. 

“I- I- I’m sssorry. I just wanted to feel the rain-” Crowley was struggling to breathe. He expected Aziraphale to yell at him, attack him or punish him in some other way, maybe by making him stand out in the rain which was now hammering down full force. He wanted to run away but he was too frightened to move. 

“It’s alright,” Aziraphale said. “You’re not in any trouble. I ought to have put the ward back up really, but I honestly don’t mind you going outside. There are wards up all around the perimeter anyway.” 

“I wasn’t trying to escape,” Crowley said quickly.

“I know. I believe you. The surrounding wards are to keep you safe as much as anything else. I wouldn’t want to risk you getting lost or we would both get into terrible trouble. And I don’t want to risk anyone sneaking in.”

“I know what happens to demons that run away. I would never do that.”

“It would be incredibly dangerous for a demon out there alone in the human world. I want to keep you safe.” 

Why wasn’t Aziraphale angry? Crowley didn't know how to react.

“Please don’t worry, Crawly. I would never hurt you, no matter what you do. You are safe here.”

Crowley blinked away tears. "I shouldn’t have gone outside without your permission. I'm so sorry."

"Apology accepted. For future reference, you are allowed in that courtyard whenever you like. And in the kitchen and in the sitting room upstairs too. This is your home too, and I want you to feel comfortable here. Forgive me, I should have made that clear before now. We are both still learning how to live together."

Crowley opened and closed his mouth a few times. Why was Aziraphale being so nice right now? Was it a trick? None of his old owners would have ever reacted in this way, and Aziraphale was even laying the blame on himself. It didn't make any sense. Surely he wasn’t really allowed outside whenever he wanted? That didn’t make any sense either. Crowley felt overwhelmed, and couldn’t help but feel that Aziraphale would soon change his mind.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his plant. He turned away from it, unable to look at it. Surely, after what he had done, he would not be allowed to keep it.

***


	5. Chapter 5

***

Aziraphale had planned for them to eat their fish and chips at the kitchen table, but Crawly was so shaken - even after plenty of reassurances – that Aziraphale decided it would be best for them to eat in the sitting room with the television on. It might help Crawly calm down.

Aziraphale carried their food and drinks upstairs on a tray. Crawly had offered to carry the tray but Aziraphale could see that the poor demon’s hands were trembling so badly he might easily drop it. 

Once he’d placed the tray on the coffee table, Aziraphale took his usual seat in his armchair whilst Crawly huddled up on the sofa.

No matter how jovial and unthreatening Aziraphale behaved, Crawly still seemed to be expecting something bad to happen. 

Crowley had only just started to come out of his shell – watching his excitement in the garden had been wonderful - but now it felt as though they had taken several steps backwards. Aziraphale didn't know how to help Crawly to feel safe. 

Aziraphale had noticed that Crawly had a habit of jumping at sudden noises and movements. He also tended to try to make himself as small as possible - he was currently hunching his shoulders as he bent over his plate. Aziraphale wondered what on Earth had happened to him in the past to make him so anxious all of the time. It broke his heart to see him like this. 

But this was only their second full day together after all - it would take time for Crawly to feel safe. Aziraphale needed to have patience. Just the fact that Crawly wasn't still hiding under his bed was a victory in itself. 

Crawly barely touched his food at first but as he watched television he started to relax and eat in earnest. Soon, his plate was empty. Aziraphale had finished eating long ago, and Crawly glanced over at Aziraphale's empty plate where it sat on the table. 

"Thanks for dinner," said Crawly. It was the first time he had spoken since coming up here. "Shall I do the washing up?" 

"Thank you, Crawly, yes please. Feel free to wait until the end of this episode though if you like. It's only got another ten minutes on it I think."

Crawly looked unsure, like he thought he might get into trouble for waiting, despite it being Aziraphale's idea. Eventually he nodded. "Okay. Thank you."

After the show had finished Crawly picked up the plates and the cups. His hands were not shaking anymore, but the way he hurried out of the room made Aziraphale think he was desperate to get away from him. 

Aziraphale tried not to take it personally. It made sense that Crawly would want some time to himself, especially after what had happened earlier. Aziraphale started to feel bad for making him sit in here with him all this time, but he feared that if he'd told him he could go to his room, Crawly might have thought he was being sent to his room for being bad.

He thought about the wet footprints, and about Crawly going out in the rain. He didn't mind him going outside, but it still worried him that Crawly might have been trying to escape. He felt sure that his wards would keep Crawly contained, but the thought that Crawly would risk his own life just to get away from him made him feel miserable. Was living with him that awful? Maybe there was a reason none of the other angels seemed to like spending time with him. What had made him think a demon would feel any differently?

Aziraphale hoped that Crawly had been telling the truth, and had only wanted to experience the rain. It made sense, especially if he hadn’t been outside for a long time, or even touched a plant before.

Crawly appeared in the doorway. He looked lost. “I’ve done the washing up and put it all away.” 

“Thank you, Crawly. I appreciate your help. Would you like to watch some more television? Or would you rather retire to your room?”

Crawly looked unsure. “What do you want me to do?”

“There’s no right or wrong answer. I want whatever you want.” 

“I- I am quite tired…”

“Feel free to go to bed then, my dear. Would you like to choose something from the bookcase to take with you?”

Crawly nodded. “Thank you. I- I like books.” He went over to the bookcase and started to browse through them. “Before I came here, I’d never seen so many books.”

“Just wait until you see how many books are in the bookshop,” Aziraphale said with a chuckle. 

Crawly picked up a book that was on a side table next to the bookcase. “Wow! The cover of this one is really ornate.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. He recognised the book. It was over a thousand years old and it ought to be in the back room with the rest of his rare books. He must have left it here weeks ago by accident. 

Crawly opened the book, bending the delicate spine. “Wow. The hand writing is beautiful-”

“Nonono. Put it down,” Aziraphale cried, his voice trembling.

Crawly jerked in surprise, and the book fell from his grasp. It landed with a thud on the carpet, bending a few of the pages.

A gasp escaped Aziraphale, and he got to his feet, staring down at the book and intending to scoop it up. 

Crowley misinterpreted his intentions, and, seeing the angel moving towards him, covered his face with his hands as though expecting to be struck. 

Aziraphale froze. "Oh, Crawly. Sorry. I wasn't-"

In a flash, Crawly fled the room, running away down the corridor into his bedroom. 

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale called after him.

Feeling overwhelmed with guilt, Aziraphale picked up the book. With the help of a quick miracle, the bent pages fixed themselves and the slight crease in the spine vanished. He had frightened Crawly over nothing. It has been selfish and unkind of him to react as he had, especially when Crawly was so scared of him already. 

He had to set this right.

The door to Crawly's bedroom had been left wide open in his haste. 

Aziraphale poked his head into the room. “Crawly?” he said in a gentle voice. “I’m so sorry I startled you. It’s entirely my fault. I shouldn’t have left that book in the sitting room, and I shouldn’t have raised my voice. I promise you - you’re not in any trouble." 

A nervous voice came from under the bed. "I'm sorry!"

"You weren't to know. I did say that you could choose any book. I thought all of my rare books were in the backroom, but I must have accidently missed that one."

"Is the book okay?"

"Oh, yes. It's fine. A quick miracle can fix any damage anyway. I'm so sorry I overreacted."

"It was on a table," Crawly said guiltily.

"Sorry?"

"The book. It was- you said to choose one from the bookcase, but I got it from the table. I should have paid more attention to your instructions."

"Don't worry about that. It's an easy mistake to make. Besides, I made a mistake by accidently leaving that book up here in the first place. It’s just a book. I overreacted." 

"I'm sorry I dropped it... clumsy…."

"I'm sorry I startled you."

"Sorry."

"Sorry."

Aziraphale sat down on the chair by the desk. "Crawly... You know, even if you do ever do something wrong, I would never hurt you. Never."

"What would you do?" 

Aziraphale hesitated. He'd never really thought about it. But he had to be careful what he said or he might scare Crawly even more.

Crawly spoke again hastily. "I'd never do anything bad though! Not on purpose! I try to be good."

"If you do anything wrong, I'll explain why it's wrong and how you can do better next time. I can't just expect you to know everything already. I'll teach you any rules as we go along. Just know that I will never hurt you, no matter what happens. And you will always have food, water and your own room. You will always be safe here."

"Thank you."

"I don't want you to be scared of me. That’s the last thing I want."

There was movement from under the bed, and then Crawly emerged. He sat on the floor with his back against the bed. His eyes were slightly red around the edges from where he’d been crying, but his eyes were dry now. 

Aziraphale spoke up. "The other angels that adopted you... Did- Did they hurt you?"

Crawly gulped. He nodded, and then looked up at Aziraphale. "Not my first owner. She- she'd only give me a little slap if I annoyed her, but- but-" he broke off, and made a shaky sound. "My last owner..." He shook his head and wouldn't go on.

Aziraphale kept his voice calm, though inside he was burning with the injustice of it all. "Your last owner hurt you?"

Crawly nodded.

"They shouldn't have. And your first owner shouldn't have slapped you either. There's no excuse for violence. I'm so sorry you went through that. It wasn't right."

"I tried so hard to be good, but he hurt me anyway. Nothing I did was ever good enough. He said I needed punishing because I'm a demon." 

"You’ve already been punished. You fell, and you lost your freedom and your powers. I think you’ve been punished enough."

Crawly looked up at him. There were tears in his eyes. "You really think so?"

"Yes, I do."

Aziraphale wanted to ask who his previous owners were, but he resisted the urge. He didn't want to push Crawly or ask too many questions. It was clearly difficult for him to talk about this.

Crawly wrapped his arms around himself. "I regret it every day, you know. I didn't mean to join the rebellion. I should never have hung around with Lucifer and his lot."

"We all make mistakes, my dear. We can't change the past. Just be the best that you can be now."

Crawly nodded and dried his eyes on his sleeve. 

"Would you like a hot drink?” Aziraphale asked. “Some cocoa maybe? That always cheers me up when I'm feeling a bit down."

"Chocolate can be a drink?"

"Oh, yes. Would you like to try it?"

Crawly nodded, a hesitant smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Yes, please. I like chocolate."

Aziraphale smiled back, pleased that Crawly seemed happier. "Would you like to come with me? It's fun to add the marshmallows and cream."

Crawly nodded and got to his feet.

The second they stepped into the kitchen Aziraphale saw the dragon plant sat in the corner. He had forgotten all about it.

"Oh. Your plant. I don't think we ever decided what to do with it. Have you thought about which room you’d like to keep it in? There's no rush to decide, and you can always change your mind later."

“I can keep it?”

“Of course you can. It’s yours Crawly. It will always be yours.”

"You, um, said that maybe I could keep it in my bedroom?"

"Yes, my dear,” said Aziraphale, “Let's take it upstairs now while the kettle boils." 

Crawly excitedly carried the plant upstairs, struggling a little under the weight of it. On the landing at the top of the stairs, Crawly put the plant down for a moment to catch his breath.

"Are you sure you wouldn't prefer I carry it?" Aziraphale asked as Crawly bent down to lift his plant up again. 

"Thanks, but I'll be alright. It’s not very far now," Crawly said confidently, but then he hesitated. "Unless I'm taking too long..."

"No, not at all, dear boy. I'll open the door for you."

Aziraphale walked ahead and held the bedroom door open as Crawly marched through. 

Crawly put the plant down in a corner, and then pushed the long leaves out of his face as he straightened up. "It should get lots of light here. What do you think?" 

Aziraphale nodded in approval.

Crawly stepped back, admiring the plant. He turned to Aziraphale with a joyful smile on his face. "Thank you."

It warmed Aziraphale’s heart to see him so happy, especially after his fright earlier. 

They went back downstairs, and Aziraphale showed Crawly how to make cocoa. Crawly was amused by the squirt-on whipped cream. They added marshmallows before sprinkling cocoa powder over the top as decoration. 

"I think the modern term is 'hot chocolate,'” Aziraphale explained, “but it will always be cocoa to me."

While they sat at the kitchen table and enjoyed their drinks, Crawly told Aziraphale about the first time he ever ate chocolate. In the 1870s Michael let him choose a chocolate from a box with ‘Cadbury’ written on it in swirling letters. After that she occasionally let him have one if she was feeling generous. 

Aziraphale shared his own story. Several hundred years before Jesus was born, Aziraphale met a group of Mayan people while traveling, and they prized cacao beans so highly that they even used it as a currency. They made drinks from the cacao which tasted bitter and were often mixed with chillies, a far cry from the sweet chocolate he was used to these days. 

Crawly seemed more at ease with him than ever before, and it was wonderful to have him talking so freely. Hopefully, Crawly was starting to understand that no one was going to hurt him. 

Crawly stifled a yawn, and then he picked up the mugs before carrying them over to the sink. "I'll wash these."

"You can always leave them for tomorrow. It is getting late after all, and you do look tired." 

"I am quite sleepy. Thanks, Aziraphale. I’ll wash them when I do the breakfast things tomorrow instead - if that's okay?"

"That’s a good idea."

Crawly smiled again, and then he went up to bed. 

Shortly after, Aziraphale went into his bookshop.

*** 

Crowley lay on his side in his bed, staring at his new plant in the corner. Moonlight cast a glow upon the leaves, and Crowley's demonic eyes could easily make out the details.

A smile spread across his face. 

Aziraphale could have punished him by taking the plant away, by hurting him, by making him do difficult and exhausting work. But instead he had gently reassured him that everything was going to be okay, and allowed him to keep the plant. He had even allowed him to have a chocolate drink. Crowley had been expecting punishment, but instead he had been given things that should have been rewards for good work. 

Aziraphale had even listened to what Crowley had to say and taken his feelings on board. Crowley’s owners had never truly listened to him before, and Aziraphale seemed to care about the things he had been through. Even though he was a demon, Aziraphale acted as though he deserved to be treated with kindness and respect.

Guilt, and a desperate need to force Aziraphale to react in a way more familiar, had made Crowley confess to picking up the book from the wrong place - the table, not the bookcase. 'An easy mistake,' Aziraphale had said, and then brushed it away as if it were nothing, as if any of Crowley's mistakes were forgivable. 

Crowley's heart raced. He could feel himself starting to trust Aziraphale, and to believe the things he said. 

But had it really been a good idea to share things about his previous owners with Aziraphale? What if he found out who they were somehow? What if Aziraphale talked to Michael and she said horrible things about him? Or Aziraphale told Michael the things he had said about her? Maybe he shouldn’t have told Aziraphale that she used to slap him. 

At least he hadn't said too much about his last owner, or revealed his name. Crowley shuddered. His last owner terrified him, and the last thing he wanted was for him to come back into his life. 

Crowley rolled over onto his back, and stared up at the ceiling, tired but unable to sleep.

Aziraphale had said he didn't want Crowley to be frightened of him. Crowley's previous owners had made it very clear that he should be scared of them, and that they saw him as a lesser being.

Crowley was starting to think that he might actually be able to have a good life here. He could be happy. Aziraphale seemed genuinely kind, and had promised to let him do all sorts of things – have snacks whenever he wanted, move around the flat as he desired, and even go outside into the courtyard. Maybe he could be friends with Aziraphale instead of being afraid of him. Wouldn't that be lovely? Wouldn't that be the most incredible thing that has happened to him since the Fall? In 6000 years, the closest Crowley had ever gotten to having friends were the demons he briefly met in the cells. 

Crowley bit his lower lip. Hope was a cruel thing. To have the promise of that kind of life only to have it ripped away would destroy him. 

He would have to be careful. He couldn't afford to start trusting an angel only to have them inevitably turn on him. Aziraphale was like a child with a new toy. It wouldn't last. He'd grow bored of him eventually. The only person Crowley could really trust was himself.

***

Early the next morning Crowley opened his bedroom door and waved a hand out into the hall. The ward was still down, and although Aziraphale had said he was allowed to go downstairs unattended to get breakfast, he still didn’t dare do it.

He glanced at the bed, knowing he had food hidden underneath, but he would rather save that for emergencies. Perhaps he should wait for Aziraphale to fetch him.

There was movement from the sitting room, and, as if on cue, Aziraphale came to greet him.

“Good morning, Crawly. I thought I heard your door opening.”

“Good morning.”

“Ready for breakfast?”

Crowley nodded.

While they walked downstairs, Aziraphale reiterated that Crowley was allowed to leave his room and make himself breakfast whenever he was ready. Crowley decided that he might try it tomorrow if he was feeling brave.

They ate cereal in the little courtyard. It was cooler this morning, so Aziraphale nipped back inside to fetch them a blanket each. 

After they had eaten, Aziraphale stood up. “I have some work to do in the shop, but feel free to stay outside. Or you can go upstairs and watch television - whatever you fancy.”

Crowley couldn’t believe his luck at being allowed so much leisure time. “Thanks. I’ll stay outside a little longer, if that’s okay.” 

“Jolly good. I’ll come back at lunchtime – around twelve - but feel free to knock on the door that leads to the shop if you need anything.” He gestured to the door across the hall from the kitchen. “And feel free to get drinks – including hot drinks - and snacks.”

Before long, Crowley was sat outside on his own. He stayed there for a long while, enjoying the peace and quiet, until eventually he gathered all of their breakfast things and took them into the kitchen. He washed them along with the mugs from their hot chocolate the night before, dried them, and then put them away. 

He wondered what to do next. He wished he’d offered to do some chores, something useful to make Aziraphale pleased with him. After his screw-ups the day before, and his tearful and embarrassing display after running away to hide in his room, he wanted to make sure Aziraphale would not regret bringing him home. 

He glanced at the door to the shop, considering asking for a job to do, but he didn’t want to disturb Aziraphale. Maybe he could use his initiative and give the kitchen a good clean? He looked under the sink and found cleaning supplies but he didn’t dare to do anything without express permission and instructions first. He decided to ask to be given chores after lunch instead. He considered making himself a cup of tea, but it felt wrong to make one for himself without making one for Aziraphale, and again, he couldn’t bear to knock on the door, even to ask if he wanted a drink. 

Crowley decided to go back outside and lounge in the sun - which had decided to make an appearance – and by midday, the courtyard was warm and bright. He was looking forward to having lunch outside, but Aziraphale had different ideas.

“I think I’m going to watch television while I eat. Would you like to join me? It’s alright if you would rather eat outside.”

Crowley decided to go with him. If Aziraphale had bought him because he was lonely, then it would be best to keep him company. Besides, Crowley liked watching television. 

For lunch they had some pre-packaged sushi which Aziraphale had in the fridge. 

They watched an episode of Antiques Roadshow, and Aziraphale excitedly told him that - given a chance - he would take his collection of Regency Silver snuffboxes onto the show, not to mention some of his rarer books. After the episode had finished, Aziraphale stood up. “I have some more work to do in the bookshop. Will you be alright? Feel free to change the television channel or go back outside if you want.”

“Are there any chores I can do?”

“Oh,” said Aziraphale in surprise. “Well. Now you mention it, this room could do with a good dust.” Aziraphale glanced around with embarrassment at the cobwebs and the fine layer of dust that had settled on the furniture in the room. 

Soon, Crowley found himself armed with a feather duster, a cleaning cloth, and a dustpan and brush.

Aziraphale went to leave the room and Crowley turned off the television. 

“Oh. You can keep the television on if you like,” Aziraphale said.

“Thank you, but I’d rather not have any distractions.” 

Crowley wanted to make sure he did a good job, but it was also ingrained in him that if he were side-tracked from his chores by the television then his owner would hurt him. He wasn’t sure what Aziraphale would do if he got distracted, but either way, he felt better with the television off.

“Would you like some music instead?”

“Yeah, that would be nice actually.”

Aziraphale went to the gramophone in the corner. “I like music when I’m doing chores. What would you like to listen to? I have Bach, Beethoven… Er. Brahms. Mozart. Do any of those take your fancy?”

Crowley hadn’t heard of any of them so he picked one at random. “Mozart?”

“Good choice. Let’s give Symphony Number 40 a go.” 

Neither of Crowley’s previous owners had ever listened to music – not so far as Crowley had been aware anyway. Michael had briefly lived within hearing range of a tavern, and Crowley had been able to hear bards singing and playing musical instruments. Later, for a few decades, he had been able to hear a human practicing piano through the walls. They became rather good at it, and he missed it when they stopped playing. 

Thinking back to his last owner, the only music he could remember hearing was the background jingles on news programs. 

Crowley wondered if Mozart was going to be like human music, or closer to the Heavenly choirs which he remembered from so long ago. Aziraphale - as an angel - would probably enjoy something more like the choirs. Either way, music would be less distracting than television and better than silence – unless Aziraphale’s tastes were that terrible. 

Aziraphale set some music playing on the gramophone, and then went back downstairs leaving Crowley alone in the sitting room. 

The music was like nothing he had ever heard before – energetic and intense yet intricate. He found himself swept away by it, dusting in time with the music. 

Not long after, footsteps could be heard on the stairs as Aziraphale returned. 

Crowley looked at the clock on the wall, and was surprised to find that it was almost 4pm already. Time had flown by. He actually enjoyed working when he had music to listen to. 

His heart raced, hoping that Aziraphale would be impressed by his work and not too disappointed that he hadn’t finished yet.

“Aziraphale! Sorry. I’ve still got- I haven’t done that corner yet, or the bookcase…”

“Not to worry. You’ve done an amazing job so far,” Aziraphale said as he gazed around the room.

Crowley gave a proud smile. “Thanks.” 

Aziraphale held out a drink towards him. “Here, I thought you might like some orange squash.”

Shortly after Crowley took the drink, the music stopped. Crowley turned towards the gramophone in disappointment.

“Shall I put another one on for you? Or- I was thinking you might enjoy the music channels on the television. You can swap back and forth between the channels to find what you like best.” 

Crowley was given the remote control and shown the different channels. There were a few ‘classical’ music channels, which Aziraphale said would play music similar to what he had just been listening to, and there were channels which played what Aziraphale referred to as ‘be-bop.’ Crowley settled on a classical music channel. 

Crowley suddenly remembered something he had wanted to ask.

“What would be the best way to clean the carpets? Can I use a broom?” The look of bewilderment on Aziraphale’s face made Crowley feel embarrassed. “Sorry, I’ve never cleaned a carpet before. I used to use a broom or a mop on bare floors. Can I use a mop on a carpet?” he realised he was rambling and quickly closed his mouth.

Both of his previous owners had stone flooring or wooden floorboards which were easy enough to sweep. Crowley was used to washing small rugs, but these carpets were far too big to wash in the same way. He didn’t know how he was meant to clean them.

“I was thinking you could use a Vacuum cleaner,” said Aziraphale. “Have you used one before?” 

Crowley shook his head. “No. I don’t think so.”

Aziraphale left the room, and then came back with an odd looking piece of apparatus. It consisted of a wedge shape that sat on the floor with a long pole sticking out of it. On the back of the pole was a bag which had ‘Hoover’ emblazoned on it. Crowley eyed it cautiously. 

“I used a miracle on it so it doesn’t need to be plugged into the wall. I kept tripping over the cable you see. Such a nuisance. Anyway, have you seen one before? Do you know how it works?”

Crowley shook his head.

Aziraphale explained how it worked and then pushed the hoover back and forth as an example. “But it’s not switched on yet. Vacuums are rather noisy. Shall I switch it on? Are you ready?”

Crowley nodded.

A loud whooshing noise came from the vacuum cleaner, and Crowley immediately moved to the other side of the room, putting the coffee table between him and it.

Aziraphale switched the vacuum off guiltily. “Sorry. I’ll put it away. You don’t have to use it.”

“It just made me jump is all,” Crowley said, edging closer again, full of curiosity. “Let’s try it again.”

Crowley soon got the hang of it, and vacuumed the corner of the room as practice. 

Aziraphale looked pleased. “While you’re doing this, I’ll go and make dinner. I was thinking we could have roast chicken.”

“Thank you. That sounds delicious.” 

“Feel free to pop down if you need any help, or if you want another drink or something.” 

After Aziraphale left, Crowley went back to doing the dusting, listening to a classical music channel while he worked. A dreary and depressing song came on so he decided to change the channel. Full of curiosity, he tried out some of the be-bop channels.

There was a 'Queen' marathon on one of the channels - whatever that meant – and he loved the song that was playing. It had words, reminding him of the bards he used to listen to - and it was bouncy and cheerful. At the bottom of the screen was the phrase, 'Don't stop me now.'

Before long a new song came on, and this one was titled, ‘I want to break free.’

It was a shame when he switched on the vacuum cleaner and the noise it made drowned out the music, but he did enjoy dancing with the vacuum just like the man on the screen was doing. 

***


	6. Chapter 6

***

The next day, just after lunch, Crowley and Aziraphale spent some time in the sitting room. 

Crowley sat politely with his hands on his knees, while Aziraphale performed magic tricks for him. 

Crowley felt hurt and humiliated as the angel performed miracle after miracle. He made coins disappear and then turned brightly coloured scarves into bouquets of flowers. 

Crowley had been starting to think that Aziraphale was kind and thoughtful, but right now he was being incredibly insensitive. Why was he doing this? Was he teasing him on purpose? Crowley was well aware that angels were vastly superior to demons, he didn’t need yet another reminder that he was weak in every way. It had been 6000 years since he’d last performed a miracle and he missed it desperately. 

Also, hadn’t Aziraphale said that Heaven kept tabs on the number of miracles he performed? Crowley was under the impression that Aziraphale was trying to keep his miracle count down, so why on earth was he being so flippant with them now? Had Crowley really spent all that time cleaning and washing so that Aziraphale could waste his miracles on this instead?

Yet Aziraphale seemed so pleased and excited to be performing for him. It honestly seemed as though he were trying to entertain Crowley rather than offend him. Was he really that oblivious to how hurtful this was? 

Then he saw it. A scarf poking out of a sleeve. Then some sleight of hand which wasn’t quiet fast enough. 

Crowley realised that Aziraphale was performing these magic tricks the human way, but he couldn’t understand why an angel would bother to learn this stuff. 

Crowley knew what magicians were. He’d seen one on the television once. He’d been so shocked to learn that humans could perform miracles that he'd made a comment about it to his owner, who laughed at him and called him stupid before explaining that it was all a trick - some humans were just incredibly skilled with their hands.

Crowley felt stupid now for assuming that Aziraphale had been using miracles.

"Oh, blast it," Aziraphale cried out in dismay as he dropped a deck of cards. Every card was the seven of hearts. "Oh, dear. I think I'm a bit rusty at this now." He started to pick up the cards, and Crowley got down on the floor with him to help. 

"Why use magic tricks when you can do real magic?" Crowley asked him. 

"Well, it's nice to have a hobby, and it was great fun to learn."

Crowley tilted his head. "How did you do the magic trick with the linked rings?"

"A true magician never reveals his secrets," Aziraphale said mysteriously, but then he gave a conspiratorial grin. "But I'll make an exception this time."

Aziraphale picked up three metal rings, and as if by magic, he linked them and then unlinked them again, seemingly passing one ring through the solid metal of the other. 

He did it again, but very slowly this time. 

Crowley's eyebrows knitted together, and then flew up. "There's a tiny gap in one of the rings!"

"Well done!” Aziraphale said happily. “Here, would you like to try it?"

Aziraphale held out the rings, and Crowley eagerly took them. It took him a while to get the hang of the magic trick, but once he had practiced for an hour or so he found he was actually pretty good at it. 

Aziraphale told Crowley that he could keep the rings, and when Crowley practiced again that night in front of his bathroom mirror, he could almost pretend that he was performing miracles again. 

***

Crowley was sprawled on the sofa in the sitting room, an art book open on his lap and a music channel on the television. 

He had been living in the lap of luxury for three weeks. 

Here, he had entertainment whenever he wanted it - music, television, books – and he was free to move around the flat and go outside into the courtyard whenever he wanted to. He was even allowed to take food from the kitchen whenever he was feeling peckish - so long as it wasn’t too close to mealtimes.

All he had to do in return for all of this was a few small chores. He cleaned and tidied every now and then and did the washing up, but Aziraphale wasn’t strict about these things and Crowley could do them at his own convenience. 

Crowley had started to assist Aziraphale with the cooking - on the days that Aziraphale didn’t order delivery anyway - and together they made toasted cheese sandwiches, coconut lentil curry, and meatballs with pasta. It had been over a hundred years since Crowley had last cooked anything and he hadn’t realised how much he’d missed it.

He started taking the rubbish bags outside to the wheelie bins in the courtyard, glad of any excuse to go outside. He used this opportunity to throw away spoiled food that he had been hoarding under his bed. He had stopped eating from his stash because he had no need to, he had all the food he could need, but he still couldn’t stop himself from hiding some away just in case. It gave him peace of mind to know that it was there.

He started to wash both his and Aziraphale’s clothes and hang them outside on the washing line to dry. 

Throughout all of this, Aziraphale remained friendly and respectful towards him, and engaged him in interesting conversation. Crowley was starting to like it here. He was starting to like Aziraphale. 

He had never imagined that his life could be like this, and a part of him was waiting for the bubble to burst, unable to believe that he could really be this lucky. He was a demon, he didn’t deserve nice things. He supposed he would just have to make the most of it while it lasted.

There was the sound of a door opening downstairs accompanied by the jangling of the shop bell, and Crowley knew that Aziraphale was home. He had been out for a few hours, and had told Crowley to have lunch without him – whatever he fancied - so Crowley had made himself some buttered toast with crisps and an apple. 

In the past, Crowley would have been glad to have some time alone without his owner around, but now he found that he missed Aziraphale when he was away. He felt lonely without him. With his old owners, he felt lonely whether they were there with him or not. 

Crowley found himself racing down the stairs, putting himself in mind of a puppy greeting his master home. It made him feel pathetic. But when he reached the kitchen and saw Aziraphale holding a wooden crate full of flowers, his excitement came back double fold.

“I thought we could brighten up the garden a bit,” said Aziraphale as he placed the crate on the kitchen table.

There were pansies in all colours of the rainbow, and there was something green and leafy in the corner. “What’s that?” Crowley asked.

“Strawberries. I thought it might be fun to grow our own.”

In the box there were two trowels and some gardening gloves.

“These are for you,” said Aziraphale, handing him a red handled trowel and a dark-green pair of gloves with a snake pattern on them. Aziraphale’s trowel and gloves were beige which certainly matched his aesthetic, though Crowley couldn’t help but feel they would show up the dirt. 

Together, they de-weeded the garden, though they kept the dandelions because Crowley liked them, and then they planted the pansies, strawberries and dandelions in the pots and also the raised flower beds.

When they were done, they sat outside drinking lemonade and admiring their hard work. Crowley couldn’t stop smiling.

“I should have bought a watering can,” said Aziraphale with a sigh. “I could miracle one up, I suppose, but- Well. Better not. We can use a jug instead for now.” 

Crowley knew that Aziraphale was worried about his frequent miracle use lately, and wasn’t surprised that he wanted to hold off on performing any more.

When Aziraphale returned with the jug, Crowley offered to water the plants. 

“Thank you,” said Aziraphale, as he carefully handed Crowley the jug of water. “While you’re doing that, I think I’ll nip out to the local bakery. I’m craving a Danish pastry. What would you like?”

Aziraphale had shared a box of pastries with him last week, and Crowley had particularly enjoyed the cinnamon swirl, so he asked for one of those. Aziraphale smiled at him happily before he went back into the building.

After Crowley had watered the flowers he came back into the kitchen, set down the jug, and then washed his hands.

There came the familiar sound of the bell over the door in the shop jangling, along with doors opening and closing. Crowley dried his hands on his trousers, eager to see what delicious treats Aziraphale had bought this time. Aziraphale was bound to have been tempted by other pastries too.

The kitchen door opened, and Crowley looked up with a smile which immediately fell from his face. 

It was not Aziraphale. A different angel stood in the doorway, and Crowley recognised him immediately. It was Gabriel. 

Crowley froze.

Gabriel seemed startled for a moment, but then he pulled himself up to his full height, looking Crowley up and down. Crowley shrank under his gaze, resisting the urge to run. 

Gabriel let out a barking laugh. “So Aziraphale really did get a demon! Wait… I know you. You used to be Michael’s. I knew I recognised that red hair. You’re…” Gabriel stopped, his eyes wide with the panic of someone who has just realised they’ve forgotten someone’s name. “Cow-lee!” he said suddenly, his face full of relief. 

Crowley didn’t dare correct him.

Gabriel sat down at the table. “Where’s Aziraphale?” he asked, looking around as though expecting him to jump out from behind a cupboard.

Crowley found his voice. “He’s gone to a bakery.”

A look of disapproval appeared on Gabriel’s face. “Bakeries are the last place Aziraphale needs to go.”

Crowley didn’t know how to respond to that. He wished Aziraphale were here. 

“Well? Aren’t you going to offer me a hot drink?” Gabriel said, gesturing to the kettle. “Have you forgotten everything Michael taught you?” 

Crowley rushed to fill the kettle with water. "I- I’m sorry. Yes, of course.” 

“You just can’t get the help these days,” Gabriel muttered to himself.

Crowley had hated being forced to act as a waiter for Michael’s guests - especially Gabriel. Crowley had never liked him, even before the Fall. “Er. Would you like tea or coffee?" 

Gabriel looked disgusted. "I don't sully my body with caffeine! You’ll find my herbal tea in that cupboard over there. Aziraphale always has some tucked away for me. It’s very good for you, you know. In fact, make a cup for yourself too - goodness knows what rubbish Aziraphale has been feeding you.”

Crowley was just getting the mugs ready, and wondering if Aziraphale would want some herbal tea too, when the door opened and Aziraphale burst in with two white cardboard boxes.

“I have Danish pastries and cinnamon swirls! And some iced buns- Gabriel! What a wonderful surprise!” 

Aziraphale hovered in the doorway, looking uncomfortable. He smiled weakly.

“Thought I’d drop in,” said Gabriel, staring at the boxes with disdain.

Aziraphale hurriedly tucked the boxes away in the fridge, and then sat opposite Gabriel at the table. He turned his attention towards Crowley. “Thank you for making the drinks, Crawly. A Coffee for me, please.”

“Aziraphale, I hope you’re not inflicting your terrible eating habits on this demon. They need food to survive. You don’t want him dropping dead from malnutrition. Do you have any idea how expensive it is to buy them back if they discorporate? After the admin charges, and the cost of a replacement body- You really should have come to me before purchasing a demon, I could have given you so many useful tips.” 

“Ah. Thank you. I think we’ve muddled through okay.”

“Stay on your guard. Demons are sneaky things,” Gabriel said with a distrustful glance at Crowley. “Give them an inch and they’ll take a mile. They may seem weak and feeble without their powers, but they’re master manipulators. Believe me, I had my work cut out for me with Beelzebub but she knows her place now.” 

Crowley’s throat felt tight at the thought of Beelzebub - always so proud and strong - being forced to submit to Gabriel. But Crowley couldn’t imagine that anyone could ever truly break her.

Crowley placed the drinks in front of the two angels. 

“Oh, thank you, my dear,” said Aziraphale, clearly pleased by the distraction.

“My dear?” Gabriel scoffed. He glared at Crowley, who shrank back against the kitchen counter. “There’s nothing ‘dear’ about a demon.” 

“Figure of speech,” Aziraphale said faintly. 

Gabriel made a shooing motion at Crowley. “You can go now. The angels need to talk.” 

Crowley leapt at the chance to escape this horrible social interaction, and had the door open in a flash. 

“Don’t forget your herbal tea,” Gabriel shouted after him.

Crowley grabbed his tea and then fled the room. As he closed the door behind him he heard Gabriel say to Aziraphale, “Where did you find this idiot?”

Soon, Crowley was safe in his bedroom. 

He drank the herbal tea. He enjoyed trying new things, and the drink was okay, but he much preferred the hot drinks which Aziraphale had given him before - especially the hot chocolate. 

***

Aziraphale waved goodbye to Gabriel who was walking away down the street, and then he closed and locked the door before leaning against it. He let out a long sigh. He felt exhausted, just as he always did after spending time any length of time with Gabriel.

He had hoped that Gabriel might have had an update about the welfare of the demons in the Demon Rehoming House, but the way Gabriel deflected any questions on the matter made Aziraphale doubt that he had looked into it at all. Aziraphale felt disappointed but not surprised. 

Instead, Gabriel seemed to have visited him simply to warn him against becoming too familiar with his demon, telling him that Crawly would try to take advantage of even the smallest hint of weakness.

“I’ve seen how you get with the humans,” Gabriel had accused. “You treat them like injured birds that need to be looked after. Do not treat this demon like that, no matter what happens. Demons are evil. They rebelled against God, and against us. Do not let your guard down.” 

Then he started talking about discipline and how you have to be cruel to be kind, but Aziraphale knew that’d be a terrible approach with Crawly.

Aziraphale had tried to explain how frightened and nervous Crawly had been when he had first brought him home, and how anxious he still was most of the time. He told Gabriel that Crawly had confided in him that his last owner had hurt him, but Gabriel didn’t want to hear any of it, and just assumed Crawly had been lying or exaggerating the truth in order to gain Aziraphale’s sympathy. He told Aziraphale not to take anything Crawly said too seriously. 

Aziraphale found the conversation depressing, and found himself worrying about how Beelzebub was being treated, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to do anything to help her. He felt powerless. 

But at least he could protect Crawly. 

After putting the kettle on, Aziraphale took the two boxes out of the fridge. He opened them, and stared at the delicious treats within, feeling a mixture of longing and guilt, remembering Gabriel’s disapproval. 

It was bad enough to have Gabriel belittling him like that at the best of times, let alone when Crawly was there to witness it. To have his eating habits mocked like that in front of Crawly had been humiliating. What must Crawly think of him? 

Aziraphale closed the boxes and then put them back in the fridge, his appetite gone. Perhaps they could eat the pastries for dessert after dinner instead. 

***

A few days later, Crowley was curled up on the sofa watching a film. There came the noise of a door opening downstairs and Crowley leapt up, the film quickly forgotten now that Aziraphale had returned home. He hurried downstairs, eager for company. 

As he walked along the hall he started to worry that this might just be another angel stopping by for a random visit. Did all angels let themselves in as Gabriel had? He certainly didn't want to risk another encounter like the last one, so he approached the doorway cautiously. He saw a hint of Aziraphale's camel coat, and, feeling reassured, he marched into the room.

"Welcome home, Azira-"

He stopped in the doorway. Aziraphale was sat at the kitchen table, hunched over with his head in his hands. He was crying.

For a moment, Crowley didn't know what to do. Should he leave him alone? His previous owners would have hated to be seen like this by a demon. But Aziraphale had always comforted him whenever he was upset, and he wanted to comfort Aziraphale too. It felt wrong to just walk away and leave him like this. 

"Oh!" Aziraphale glanced up. He turned his head away and dried his eyes on his sleeve, clearly embarrassed. "Sorry," he said in a shaky voice. "I've had a rough day." 

Crowley thought back to when Aziraphale had made him a hot chocolate to comfort him - he’d said that a hot beverage always made him feel better when he was feeling down. "Would you like a hot drink?" 

"Oh, yes please. A cup of tea would be nice. Thank you." 

Crowley made them each a drink, and then he placed Aziraphale's cup in front of him. 

"Thank you," Aziraphale said quietly, drying his eyes on his handkerchief. 

Crowley wondered what has upset him, but he didn't want to pry. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Aziraphale shook his head. "Thank you, but no. I'm just being silly. It's my own fault for growing so attached. A friend of mine - a human – he passed away."

Crowley’s mouth opened in surprise. None of his old owners had ever been particularly fond of any humans. They saw them as being beneath them, like ants. 

"They all do eventually," Aziraphale continued. "You'd think I'd be used to it by now. But he was only in his sixties, and I thought there was still plenty of life in the old boy yet."

"Maybe you can go and visit him in Heaven," Crowley said, trying to cheer him up, but Aziraphale just stared miserably into his teacup, his mouth a tight, straight line.

Crowley realised that he'd made a terrible assumption. Perhaps this human hadn’t been able to get into Heaven even with Aziraphale's influence. From what Crowley had heard over the centuries, it was difficult for humans to become pure enough to get into Heaven. 

"I wish I could," said Aziraphale with a sigh, "but angels are not permitted to see the souls of humans once they pass over. I couldn’t even see Adam and Eve - I was terribly disappointed." A smile pulled at Aziraphale's lip. "But you're right. He'll be up there somewhere – along with Adam and Eve and all the others. Gabriel assured me that their souls are in Heaven, so it must be true. Oh, but it would be nice to see my old friends again."

"It's not fair that you're not allowed to see them. I mean, why-" Crowley stopped himself. He had learnt the hard way that questioning the things Heaven did was a dangerous thing to do. After all, it had been his constant questions that had led to him becoming a demon in the first place. 

"I don't know,” Aziraphale said. “Gabriel didn't explain. It's just one of those things I suppose. Ineffable." Aziraphale took a sip of his tea, and then he looked at Crowley over the top of his teacup. He smiled. "I'm glad you're here. You're immortal, just like me."

Crowley smiled back, feeling warm inside. 'Just like me.’ It meant a lot that Aziraphale saw them as being equals in any way at all.

"I’m glad I’m here too," Crowley said. 

He felt like he now truly understood why Aziraphale had wanted a demon. It wasn't just about being lonely and wanting company, it was about having a friend who wouldn't end up leaving him like the humans did. Crowley knew humans had short life spans, but he hadn’t realised just how difficult that would be for an angel who lived amongst them. 

From what Crowley could tell, Aziraphale didn't have any close friends amongst the angels. 

Over the centuries, many angels had visited Michael - Gabriel included - but Crowley had never seen Aziraphale among them. Even his last owner had plenty of angels visiting him, though Crowley had never been allowed in the same room as them. Aziraphale's only visitor so far had been Gabriel, and Aziraphale had seemed uncomfortable around him.

Aziraphale deserved to have a true friend, and Crowley wanted to be that friend. He was going to be the best damned friend anyone had ever had.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t think the book or the show really talk about what happens to humans after they die? In the show the delivery guy that comes to collect the sword asks Aziraphale if he believes in life after death, and Aziraphale replies, “I suppose I must do.” Which implies to me that Aziraphale might not actually know for sure what happens to humans after death. That got me thinking, which is where the last scene came from.
> 
> In the book there’s a joke about how the road to Hell is paved with frozen door-to-door salesmen, so we know what happens to them anyway :S


	7. Chapter 7

***

“Dinner’s ready in five minutes,” Aziraphale called from the kitchen into the garden.

Crawly was watering the flowers with a watering can that Aziraphale had bought a few days ago. He looked up. “Thanks, Aziraphale, I’ll be quick. There's just one more flowerbed left.” 

Crawly dashed across to water the strawberries. The fruits were still small and green - nowhere near ripe - but Crawly appeared fascinated by their progress every time he went outside.

Aziraphale enjoyed watching the progress of the strawberries too, but it was the progress Crawly was making which fascinated him the most.

It had been a month, and Crawly seemed far more comfortable and at ease now. He smiled a lot, and he seemed genuinely happy, especially when he was in his garden. The demon hadn’t entirely lost that nervous jumpiness of his, but ultimately he seemed to have settled in well, and it made Aziraphale happy to see how far he’d come.

Crawly came in and washed his hands before sitting down at the table. His face lit up at the sight of the sirloin steak in front of him.

"Is it well done enough?” Aziraphale fretted. “I can cook it a little longer if you like?"

“It's perfect. Thank you."

"Oh, bother, I almost forgot..." Aziraphale muttered to himself as he dug into the back of the cutlery drawer. "These should do the trick."

Aziraphale turned back around, holding two steak knives in one hand. 

The colour immediately drained from Crawly’s face. He leapt out of his chair with such force that it fell over. Never taking his eyes off of the knives, he staggered backwards until he bumped into a cabinet with a startled yelp. 

Crawly fled the room.

Aziraphale stared, bewildered, at the doorway which Crawly had just run away through, and then his gaze lowered to the black-handled serrated knives in his hand. A horrible, sick feeling grew in the pit of his stomach. 

Crawly's feet thundered across the hallway upstairs. 

Heart in his throat, Aziraphale opened the drawer again to put the knives back, but then he changed his mind and made them vanish into oblivion instead, along with the rest of the set. 

He thought back to all of the times Crawly had helped him prepare food, trying to remember if he had ever used sharp knives around him before. He didn’t think he ever had. Thinking back, they had never chopped any vegetables or meat together. Aziraphale liked to cook on his own most of the time whilst Crawly did the gardening or cleaning. It wasn't that Aziraphale had been avoiding using sharp knives around him - he trusted Crawly not to misuse them, and it hadn't even occurred to him that Crawly would be frightened of them. 

Aziraphale went upstairs and made his way along the landing. "Crawly?" 

When he got to Crawly's bedroom he saw that the door was wide open. "I've gotten rid of the, um, knives. Destroyed them. I- I was only going to use them for eating. I would never..." Aziraphale's throat felt tight. Someone must have hurt Crawly with a knife before. He couldn't bear the thought of it. 

Ragged breaths came from under the bed. 

"Are you alright?" Aziraphale hovered in the doorway. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you. I would never hurt you. Never."

"I know," Crawly said between panicked gasps. "I just... Everything came rushing back when I saw them. I know you would never- It was just the sight of them. Sorry."

"You have nothing to apologise for, my dear."

Crawly crawled out from under the bed, and then sat on the floor with his back against the bed. He was shaking, his face still pale and frightened. He looked up at Aziraphale, who was still stood in the doorway. "I'm sorry I ruined dinner. And you spent ages-"

"Shush now. Don't worry about that. I just want to make sure you're alright." 

Crawly nodded. "I’m okay. Thank you. Er. You can come in. If you want. Or we can go back downstairs before dinner gets cold."

Aziraphale came into the room and sat down on the floor beside Crawly. "Dinner can wait. You're more important."

Crawly glanced at him, and then he stared at the wall. He wrapped his arms tightly around his knees. "I used to cook all the time for Michael. I think I got pretty good at it. And she let me use knives all the time. No problem. It was fine. I- I didn't think I'd react like that. I'm sorry." He sounded frustrated with himself. “I want to be able to cook properly for you.”

"It’s alright, Crawly. It's not your fault. And I enjoy cooking so don’t worry about that. Please don’t feel bad. I’m assuming that your last owner… hurt you with them?”

Aziraphale had thought that Crawly's last owner had beaten him, used his fists. It has never even occurred to him that he had used weapons. 

“Yeah. They looked just like that."

Anger burned in Aziraphale’s chest at the cruelty of it. “That monster. What kind of an angel hurts someone in their care? I am so sorry that happened to you.” 

Aziraphale wanted to hug Crawly, but he feared it would only frighten him and make him more uncomfortable. 

Crawly let out a sob. "It was almost a relief when I discorporated. At least then the pain would stop, and I'd be back in Hell for a little while, far away from him."

"He discorporated you?" Aziraphale said, utterly horrified, his voice breaking, and his heart along with it. 

"Only sometimes. Usually he would just leave me injured, and then come back later to heal me if the wounds were bad enough and wouldn't heal on their own. But sometimes he killed me on purpose."

"That's horrible! How could an angel ever-” Aziraphale shook his head. “But what about the angels that guard Hell? Didn't they find it suspicious that you kept discorporating?"

"He owned me. He could do whatever he wanted," Crawly said bitterly. "So long as he paid the fees, they always let him take me away again. It didn't matter what I said. The first time it happened, I begged the angel who put me in a new corporation not to give me back to him. I told her what he did, I asked her for help, but she wouldn't listen. She said I was lucky she wasn't going to repeat what I’d said to my owner.” 

“That… bad angel!”

“They don't care what happens to demons. I told some of the demons in the cells around me what had happened, and they were pissed off about it at least."

“You were friends with some of the other demons there?" Aziraphale asked, feeling bad that he had taken Crawly away from the people he was closest to.

Crawly shrugged. "Some of them. But demons get swapped into different cages all the time so we never get to see each other for very long. They're worried we'll start scheming or something I suppose. Besides, everyone gets sold sooner or later. Except Hastur of course. He's always there."

"Oh. Yes. He did seem to be rather a handful. Were you friends?"

"With Hastur? No, definitely not," Crawly said, and Aziraphale felt relieved. 

An idea was starting to form in Aziraphale’s mind. Maybe he could buy another demon when he had saved up enough points, and he'd much rather it wasn't Hastur. Not only would it help Crawly to have one of his friends here with him, but it would mean that another demon could get away from that horrible place. 

Aziraphale thought about the times he had been discorporated. The first time had been during the French revolution. He had been beheaded. He’d been so scared of getting into trouble for using too many miracles that he kept delaying his escape and then, before he knew it, he was stood on a stage surrounded by people and it was too late to do anything at all. Gabriel had been furious with him for getting his corporation killed, and had asked him why he hadn’t just miracled himself out of the situation. Aziraphale couldn’t win, no matter what he did. Then there was the time in the church where he used a miracle to remove all of the bullets from the Nazi’s guns, except he missed one of the pistols and got shot in the chest. It had been excruciatingly painful, and he’d been too shocked and disorientated to heal himself before he discorporated.

He couldn’t stand the thought of Crawly going through that, over and over again, utterly helpless, unable to do anything to stop it. 

Aziraphale turned towards Crawly. “I’ve been discorporated before… it was horrible. I can’t imagine- I’m so sorry you went through that.” 

Crawly shrugged. "The discorporating was what got me away from him in the end. It's expensive to buy us back. You have to pay fees after a discorporation so he was always more careful whenever he was running low on funds. The last time it happened was by accident - he cut a main artery without realising - and he couldn't afford to buy me back." A sad smile tugged at Crawly’s lip. "I knew that if he didn’t pay the fees before the six months grace period then he would lose his rights of ownership over me. I went back on the market a few months ago. It was a relief. And that's how you were able to buy me."

“I'm so glad you're here with me." 

Crawly shuffled closer to him. "Me too."

"Who was it?" 

Crawly froze. He shook his head violently, and hugged his knees even tighter. "I- I can't… He'll come after me."

"I won't let him anywhere near you,” Aziraphale assured him. “But if you’re not comfortable telling me then that’s okay. To be honest I don’t think I’ll be able to do much anyway. I've been trying to get Gabriel to do something about the awful treatment of the demons in the Demon Rehoming House but he won’t listen. It's no use. I'm so sorry but I’ll keep on trying."

"Thank you. You're the only angel I ever met who doesn't hate demons."

A horrible thought struck Aziraphale. "It wasn't Gabriel was it?"

"What? No, it wasn't him. I knew him from when he visited Michael." Crawly seemed to be considering something. He bit his lower lip. "Do other angels visit you here? Like Gabriel did?"

"Sometimes, but not very often. Gabriel is the only one who just lets himself in like that."

Crawly let out a sigh. "I hate the thought of my last owner coming here to see you, and you not knowing what he did... You won’t tell anyone?"

"I won’t tell anyone. Not unless you want me to." 

Crawly took a deep breath. "It was Sandalphon."

Aziraphale’s fingernails dug into his palms. "He always did like turning humans into salt. That absolute bastard.” 

Crawly looked startled for a second, but then an amused expression appeared on his face. “He is a bastard!”

Aziraphale felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment at his own foul language. “What if he tries to buy another demon? I can't bear the thought of anyone else going through what you went through."

"He won't be able to afford another demon. Not for a very long time anyway. It's much cheaper to pay the discorporation fees for a demon you already own than it is to buy a new demon. It'll take him centuries to save up again. I thought about that when I was in the cells. If no one ever bought me, then eventually he might..." He trailed off and shuddered.

"No need to worry about that now," Aziraphale reassured him. "And if it'll take him centuries to save up, then maybe by that time I'll have thought of a way to stop him from buying another demon."

"You won't tell anyone about it though, right? Or say anything to him? You don't want to make an enemy of him, Aziraphale. He's dangerous."

"I won't tell anyone. I'll be careful." 

Aziraphale wondered if he might be able to sabotage Sandalphon in some way so that he wouldn't receive as many commendations and, more importantly, the brownie points that came with them. But he was afraid of what would happen if he were caught. Gabriel was quite chummy with Sandalphon after all. 

***

Crowley lay curled up on the cold floor with an old tattered blanket wrapped around himself, trying to keep warm. He was on the verge of falling asleep when he felt fingers wrap around his throat and squeeze, dragging him back to full alertness.

He clawed desperately at the hand strangling him while staring up into Sandalphon's cold, angry eyes. He tried to fight him off, though he knew it was useless against someone with supernatural strength. 

Sandalphon's free hand came into view, and Crowley could see that he was holding a knife. He let out a sob and closed his eyes, feeling sick. 

As tight as Sandalphon's grip was around his throat, he could still steal painful breaths. He tried to stop himself from breathing - suffocating might be better than whatever Sandalphon had planned – but his body betrayed him, clinging to life, the horrifying discomfort of not having enough air forcing him to take every breath he could. 

The blade pushed against his chest, breaking the skin but not enough to do any real harm other than terrify him. Crowley scrunched his eyes closed as tightly as he could.

"Open your eyes!" Sandalphon demanded, and Crowley immediately did as he was told. "Keep them open!” 

Crowley’s vision was blurry with tears, but he could still tell that Sandalphon was grinning at him. He was enjoying this, the bastard.

“I want to watch the life vanish from your eyes as you die."

The blade thrust in, and Crowley jolted, immediately sitting up and gasping for air. 

The hand was no longer at his throat, he was no longer in the cold, dark basement. He must have died and materialised in Hell. 

But this was not Hell. There were no angels rushing to restrain him and force him into a new corporation. He was in a bedroom. His bedroom. In a warm and soft bed, still in a physical body, uninjured. 

His demonic eyes scanned the darkness, searching for his attacker, convinced in his confusion that Sandalphon was in the room with him. 

Reality came back to him. It had only been a dream – not real - or at least, it was the distant memory of an old attack, probably brought on by what had happened with the steak knives. 

Crowley knew that he was safe here, but after that horrible dream he couldn’t shake the feeling of being in danger. 

A quick glance at the clock told him that it was 3am. He climbed out of bed, taking his blanket with him so that he could hide under the bed but instead he found himself moving towards the door. He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted Aziraphale. 

Crowley quietly opened his bedroom door and then padded along the hallway. 

He had heard Aziraphale go into his bedroom late last night, and a faint glow was coming from around the edges of his door, probably from a table-lamp. 

Crowley stood in front of the door, feeling unsure of himself. He didn’t want to bother Aziraphale – especially if he was in bed. He might have fallen asleep with his light on while reading.

He wrapped the blanket tightly around himself, and then he sat on the floor close to Aziraphale’s door with his back against the wall. He felt better now that he was closer to Aziraphale. 

His eyes were just drifting closed when the door opened and Aziraphale stepped out. He was wearing a nightshirt. 

Aziraphale looked down at Crowley huddled on the ground. “Crawly, what’s wrong?”

Crowley looked up, feeling guilty. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry.”

“I was just reading in bed. I thought I heard something. Are you okay?”

“I just had a bad dream, is all.”

Aziraphale made a sympathetic sound. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do to help you feel better? Would you like a hot drink?”

“One of those chocolate drinks would be nice.” 

“Now that you mention it, I could go for one of those as well.”

Aziraphale threw on a dressing gown, and then they went downstairs to make the drinks before returning upstairs to the sitting room.

Aziraphale sat down in his usual armchair, and Crowley took the sofa. 

"Would you like the television on?” Aziraphale asked. “Or some music perhaps?"

"Music would be nice," said Crowley. 

Aziraphale went to the gramophone and put on some relaxing music before returning to his armchair. 

Once Crowley had finished his drink he pushed the empty mug onto the coffee table. He was struggling to keep his eyes open.

“You look tired, my dear,” Aziraphale said gently. “Did you want to go back to bed?”

Crowley shook his head. As tired as he felt, he didn’t want to be alone right now. Aziraphale was the only one who seemed to care about him, he was the only one who would protect him. "Can I stay here with you for a little while?" 

“Of course you can.”

Crowley rearranged his blanket and then shuffled along the sofa so that he was closer to Aziraphale. He curled up and closed his eyes. "I'll just rest my eyes for a little bit." 

He started to relax, feeling safe again, and before long he was drifting off into a deep sleep. 

***

Aziraphale glanced over at Crawly, and was surprised to see that he was sleeping. Crawly's chest was rising and falling in a gentle rhythm, and his face was more relaxed than Aziraphale had ever seen it. In the depths of sleep he looked so innocent and peaceful. Ironic really, Aziraphale supposed, considering he was a demon, and yet there had always been something innocent about him. 

Aziraphale smiled fondly, feeling touched that Crawly felt safe enough around him to fall asleep right now, and to have sought him out when he felt afraid. It felt as though they were truly becoming friends, though Aziraphale knew there was still a long way to go before they could really be called that.

Aziraphale's smile faltered as he thought of the future. There was something weighing on his mind. 

Crawly had been living here for just over a month, and in a few weeks Aziraphale was going to have to give him his medicine again. The thought of it filled him with dread. 

The wooden box of tablets from the Demon Rehoming House was currently sat on a shelf in the back room, and every time he saw it his stomach flipped. 

Crawly had been in incredible amounts of pain the last time, and the thought of putting him through that again made Aziraphale feel sick. He didn't want to do it, even though he knew he didn't have a choice. The owner’s manual made it clear that he must do it or Crawly's powers would come back, putting himself and others at enormous risk. 

Aziraphale had promised that he would never hurt Crawly. Forcing him to take a holy water capsule felt like a betrayal. He could use his healing powers to dull the pain, but he knew it would still hurt him. Aziraphale tried to tell himself that Crawly had been through this many times before so he must be at least partly used to it by now. It had been 6000 years after all. And yet, Aziraphale couldn't help but think that it wasn't the sort of thing that anybody could ever truly get used to.

He tried to imagine what it would feel like if the roles were reversed, if he were forced to taste a tiny dose of Hellfire every eight weeks - the only thing that could destroy him. But Aziraphale had never been near any Hellfire, let alone seen any, and he couldn't imagine what it would feel like to be burnt by it. The idea of something that could utterly destroy him felt surreal. All he could compare the concept to was the handful of times his human body had been injured or discorporated. Goodness knows what taking that medicine felt like for Crawly.

Would Crawly have a panic attack at the sight of one of those pills? Aziraphale couldn't imagine him just casually swallowing it like it was nothing more than a cough drop. Perhaps he would have to force-feed Crawly like the angels did in the Demon Rehoming House. 

Aziraphale sighed miserably. He was going to have to talk to him about this. They needed to have a good sit down and a serious chat, and hopefully they could come to an arrangement. 

He didn't want to hurt Crawly. Surely he would understand that. 

Aziraphale took a deep, steadying breath. There were still several weeks to go before Crawly had to take that medicine, so there was still plenty of time left to come up with the right way to discuss it with him.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been difficult to plan meals which don’t involve using big sharp knives – no chopping veggies, meat or potatoes! Or at least, not in front of Crowley anyway, hence why Aziraphale cooked a roast dinner while Crowley danced with the vacuum upstairs.
> 
> Also, I just want to say how fun it has been to watch you all in the comments guessing who Crowley’s last owner was. You were pretty split between Gabriel and Sandalphon for a while!


	8. Chapter 8

***

A few nights later, there came a knock on Aziraphale’s bedroom door. Aziraphale looked up from his book, concerned that Crawly had suffered another nightmare. 

“You can come in, my dear.”

The door swung open, revealing Crawly stood awkwardly in the hallway. 

Aziraphale remembered that there was a ward protecting his bedroom doorway, and so he quickly lowered it. “Sorry, the ward is down now. Feel free to come in.”

“Thank you,” Crawly said, taking a few steps into the room. “Sorry to bother you. I was just closing my curtains when I saw the stars. They’re really clear tonight. Do you mind if I go outside to get a better look?”

Crawly looked so hopeful that Aziraphale wouldn’t have been able to say no even if he’d wanted to. 

“Of course you can.”

Crawly’s face lit up. “Thank you,” he said before dashing away downstairs. 

Aziraphale tried to get back to reading, but Crawly’s enthusiasm was contagious and he found himself going downstairs to join him. After all, when was the last time he had really looked at the stars? He switched on the kettle as he went through the kitchen, and glanced at the clock. It was almost 11pm.

Crawly was stood in the middle of the courtyard, gazing upwards happily.

“Would you like some cocoa?” Aziraphale asked.

“Yes, please.” 

Shortly after, Aziraphale brought the drinks outside and they sat together at the little table. 

Crawly pulled his cocoa close, but his attention was still on the starry night sky, a smile on his face. 

“Pretty, aren’t they,” Aziraphale said.

“Thanks,” said Crawly, which seemed an odd response. “I kinda wish I’d made them bigger though. So much of the detail is lost this far away. But it’s really good to be able to see them like this, knowing everyone on Earth can see them too.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened in surprise. “You made them?” 

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry, I assumed you knew. I was head designer.” 

Aziraphale gazed at Crawly in wonder, glad to have learnt something about his life before the Fall. They hadn’t known each other back when they were both angels, and as curious as Aziraphale felt it had seemed rude to ask about his old life. “Well, you did a wonderful job.”

“Thank you.” 

“The humans are fascinated by the stars, you know. They have built huge telescopes to get a better look. And they have published lots of books that are full of photographs of outer-space. You can have a look through my books later if you like.”

Crawly’s face lit up. “Thanks, I’d like that!” He took a sip of his drink then put the mug down and pointed up at the sky. “You see that star over there? The super bright one above the treetops? That’s one of my favourites. You can’t tell from here, but it’s actually two stars circling each other.”

“Oh! Alpha Centauri,” said Aziraphale, glad that he’d recently watched a television documentary about the stars, as well as having read a lot of books on the matter over the centuries. 

“Alpha what?”

“Alpha Centauri. That’s what the humans call it. They named the stars and the constellations. It’s also known as Rigil Kentaurus, which means, ‘foot of the centaur.’” 

Crawly let out an amused laugh. “What do my twin stars have to do with centaurs?”

It’s a part of a constellation called Centaurus. The stars are in the shape of a centaur.”

Crawly looked astonished, and immediately gazed up at the sky. “Well, that was entirely accidental on my part. Unless one of the other angels rearranged things without my noticing.” He frowned. “I can’t see it…”

“It does take a certain amount of imagination, I suppose. I couldn’t see it at first. It’s probably easier if I fetch a book about the stars from my shop – I’ll be right back. Let’s nip into the kitchen for a bit so we can look at the pictures in the light.” 

“Sure,” said Crawly, picking up his half-finished drink and carrying it into the kitchen. He put it down on the table. 

Aziraphale walked away into the hall and then opened the door to the bookshop. He hesitated, and then turned towards Crawly. “You can come with me if you want - into the shop I mean.”

It made sense to have Crawly look through the books himself, rather than Aziraphale carrying a bunch of them through into the kitchen for him to choose from. Besides, he’d been thinking for a while that it was about time to show Crawly the bookshop. It would be nice to be able to have Crawly in there with him while he was working. 

Crawly stood up hesitantly. “Yes, please.”

Aziraphale lowered the ward and led the way into the bookshop, feeling oddly nervous, which was silly really. He trusted Crawly. Besides, he let the general public in here, and nobody was more untrustworthy than them. 

Crawly moved carefully through the shop, his hands clasped together in front of him as though worried he might accidently knock something over as they moved past the bookcases.

They emerged into an open space in the centre of the shop, surrounded by pillars on all sides. Crawly made an awed sound as he gazed upwards at the domed glass ceiling. Sunlight usually lit up this area, but now stars shone high above them. 

“Your shop is beautiful,” Crawly whispered. 

“Oh, thank you,” said Aziraphale, a delighted blush colouring his cheeks. Nobody had ever complimented his shop before, not even Gabriel when he had first visited. 

“And I’ve never seen so many books!” 

Aziraphale showed him around, and then they eventually got back to their original aim. 

Aziraphale led Crawly to the astronomy section – a single shelf on a bookcase. 

Some of the books showed the different constellations and Crawly seemed both fascinated and amused by what the humans had seen in the positioning of the stars. They found a couple of books that were full of photos taken from the Hubble Space Telescope and Crawly flicked through those, utterly spellbound. 

They went back outside with one of the books, and together they found Centaurus in the night sky.

Soon, it was 3am and Crawly was struggling to keep his eyes open. “I’d better call it a night. Thanks for coming outside with me, and for showing me your shop and all the books. It’s been fun.”

“I’ve enjoyed it too,” Aziraphale said with a warm smile. He was still smiling when he returned to his room to finish the book he’d been reading. 

***

Crawly was pleased to be allowed into the bookshop again the next day. The place seemed even grander in the daylight, with sunbeams shining down from the domed window onto the faded rug below. 

They spent most of the afternoon re-stocking the bookcases, and Crawly found working with Aziraphale lots of fun. They talked as they worked and the hours flew past.

“When was the last time you opened the shop to customers?” Crawly asked as he sorted through the final pile of books that needed shelving. 

“Only a few days before you arrived, so it’s been over a month. How time flies! But I’m in no rush to open again. I’ve been thinking… it might be nice for you to nip into the shop one day when there are humans here. That way you could get used to being around them before we go out into the street. That is, if you would still like to.”

Crawly’s heart raced with both excitement and nerves at the thought of being around humans, let alone outdoors among them. “I’d definitely like to, but what about my eyes? Will the humans be scared of them?”

“I imagine they’d probably assume you’re wearing contact lenses. They might stare - or ask questions. But I can use a miracle to stop them noticing your eyes, and to stop them noticing you altogether if that would make you more comfortable to start with.”

Crawly didn’t like the idea of Aziraphale being forced to use miracles every time humans were around, but he supposed there was no other option. 

Exhausted after all of their work, they ordered Chinese food to be delivered and then ate it in the kitchen. 

Before long they were sat in a companionable silence in the sitting room, both of them reading. Crowley was looking through one of the space books from last night - Aziraphale had allowed him to keep them, and they now lived in one of his desk drawers - and Aziraphale was engrossed in a novel and giving him regular updates on the plot. 

Crowley wanted to ask him for a favour, but he didn’t want to disturb him from his reading. It was only when Aziraphale looked away from his book long enough to pick up his teacup and take a sip that Crowley dared to ask.

“Aziraphale?”

“Yes, dear boy?”

“Would you- Can I have my wings out please?” 

“Oh! Yes, of course,” Aziraphale said, a guilty look on his face. “Sorry. I ought to have offered.” 

“It’s alright. I never really thought about it before now.”

The truth was, Crowley had only recently felt comfortable enough around Aziraphale to want him to do this.

“I confess… it felt rather invasive when I did it last time,” said Aziraphale worriedly. “Did- Did it hurt?”

“Nah. It only made me jump.”

Aziraphale looked relieved. “Alright. Shall I do it now? Are you ready?”

Crowley nodded. “Yeah.”

Black wings sprang forth and Crowley let out a contented sigh. He stretched them wide, feathers brushing against the back of the sofa. 

Michael had allowed him to have his wings out whenever he asked – unless she was in a particularly foul mood – but Sandalphon had never allowed it. He’d said that only angels should be allowed to have wings, demons didn’t deserve to have them. In the last hundred years, he’d only ever had his wings out in the Demon Rehoming House.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You can ask me anytime you’d like to have your wings out.”

Aziraphale shuffled forward in his seat and then his wings appeared too, a wing hanging down on either side of the armchair. 

The angel’s feathers were the purest white, and they reminded Crowley of how his own feathers used to look before the Fall. He felt oddly homesick and nostalgic, remembering his old life.

Aziraphale beamed. “Oh, this is nice. I don’t have my wings out very often. In fact, I’ve become so used to not having them out that I tend to forget myself and knock things over when I do!” Aziraphale chuckled. “You don’t realise how big wings are until you try to manoeuvre around a cramped little bookshop!” 

For the rest of the evening they read with their wings out. Crowley couldn’t help but think what an odd sight they must look. 

Crowley ran his fingers through his feathers, tidying them as best he could though he couldn’t reach all the way back. Perhaps it would be nice to have Aziraphale preen his wings for him - and to return the favour - but it didn’t feel right to ask. Besides, as fond as he had become of Aziraphale recently he still didn’t feel ready for that level of physical contact between them. 

As the sky turned dark outside, Crowley stood up to go to bed. 

“Shall I put your wings away for you?” Aziraphale asked.

“Is it okay if I keep them out?”

“Of course. I’ll be in here all night reading, so if you change your mind later just let me know.” 

“Thank you. Good night, angel.”

“Good night.”

That night, Crowley curled up in bed and fell asleep with his wings wrapped around himself. 

***

The next morning Aziraphale awoke in his armchair, feeling confused. He had only meant to rest his eyes for a moment. He hadn’t intended to fall asleep. 

Unlike Crawly, Aziraphale didn’t need to sleep, and so he always felt guilty whenever he did so. It felt like he had wasted precious time. The clock on the wall told him that it was 8am - he had been napping for hours.

There came the sound of the kitchen door opening far below, and he realised that Crawly must be heading outside into the courtyard. 

Aziraphale’s book was still open on his lap and so he picked it up, intending to read it again, but now he found himself considering the merits of a morning coffee. He shifted in his seat, feeling uncomfortable, and then he freed his wings from where they had been pressed tightly against the back of the armchair. 

Crawly must still have his wings out too - he would not be able to put them away himself. It was a relief to know that none of the neighbours would be able to see into their little garden and spot him. But then Aziraphale realised that if Crawly flew high enough then the humans would be able to spot him from their windows. Even worse, Aziraphale had forgotten to put a ward above the garden. If Crawly wanted to he could easily fly away.

Heart racing, Aziraphale leapt from his seat, his book tumbling to the ground. He almost tripped over it as he ran across the room, knocking over a vase with one wing and a pile of books with the other. 

He ran from the room, letting out a pained sound as his wings caught against the doorframe. Frustrated with himself, he folded his wings in close, and then he raced along the corridor and down the stairs.

But surely Crawly wouldn’t try to escape? Humans would see him, and where would he even go? They both knew what Heaven would do if another angel found him before Aziraphale did. 

Gabriel’s words echoed in his mind - demons are cunning and manipulative. Perhaps Crawly had realised there was no ward, and had asked to have his wings out on purpose in order to escape. Crawly knew he could go into the courtyard unaccompanied whenever he wanted, and once he realised Aziraphale was asleep it was the perfect opportunity. 

No, surely Crawly would never betray him like that. They were friends. Weren’t they? Crawly seemed to like living here, but he was still being held captive - no matter how nicely he was treated – and so it was only natural that he would want to be free.

Aziraphale stepped out into the garden, fearing the worst, but there stood Crawly, watering can in hand and his wings folded tidily behind him. 

Crawly turned towards him with a smile on his face - which instantly dropped away. “What’s the matter? Did I do something wrong?”

“No. Not at all,” Aziraphale reassured him. Then he decided to tell half of the truth. “I was just worried that if you flew high enough the neighbours might see you. It would certainly give them a shock!” 

Crawly’s brow creased in confusion. “Fly?”

“Yes. I have no problem with you having a fly around, of course, but don’t go too high. No higher than the top of that tree over there. Just in case the neighbours are peeking through their windows. I’ll just put a ward at the perfect height...” 

He started chanting, and the ward formed above them, invisible to the human eye. He hoped it wasn’t too obvious that he’d never put a ward up there in the first place.

“There you go. Feel free to take flight,” Aziraphale said, taking a step back to give Crawly room. He thought he might even have a go himself - it had been a while after all. 

But Crawly didn’t move and he seemed uncomfortable. Perhaps he didn’t want to fly. Aziraphale felt like a fool - he had convinced himself so completely that Crawly might try to fly away that he had assumed flying was something Crawly wanted to do. The poor thing looked bewildered.

“Only if you want to of course,” Aziraphale added quickly. “You don’t have to.”

“I- I can’t fly,” Crawly said in a quiet voice. 

“You can’t?” 

Aziraphale looked at Crawly’s wings in confusion. They looked strong and healthy. If his feathers had ever been clipped then they had certainly grown back in, so Aziraphale couldn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t be able to fly. Perhaps his previous owners had lied to him.

“How come you can’t fly?” Aziraphale asked.

“Demons can’t fly,” Crawly said. “The tablets stop our powers, and we can’t fly without our powers. I’m too heavy for my wings to lift me. I’ve tried it before – when I lived with Michael - and it’s no use.”

“Oh,” said Aziraphale, feeling foolish and wishing he’d paid more attention when he’d been reading the manual, but in his defence there had been an awful lot to take in. “Sorry. I didn’t realise.” 

He had never really thought about how he was able to fly, but now he really thought about it, the physics were all wrong. He had always taken for granted that he could fly, just as he took for granted that he didn’t need to sleep, eat or breathe. 

Crawly gave him a smile, as if to say that it was okay, that he was not offended, but there was a sadness in his eyes that broke Aziraphale’s heart. 

“What if I try using my powers to give you the ability to fly? Would you like to fly again?”

Crawly stared at him. “R- Really? Yes, please, I’d like that a lot!”

“Alright, I’ll try. Are you ready?”

Crawly nodded. He seemed nervous, but also excited. 

With a thought, Aziraphale used a miracle to bestow Crawly with the power of flight. 

Aziraphale moved back to give Crawly space. “Did it work?” 

“I- I feel different. I think it might have worked. Shall I try?”

Aziraphale nodded. 

Crawly flapped his wings a few times, as though to test them, and then he flapped them again, but faster this time, and his feet left the ground by a few inches. He let out a sound of surprise. His wings stilled, and then he dropped back to the ground, staggering slightly as he regained his balance.

Crawly turned towards Aziraphale, a huge grin on his face. “It worked! I was actually flying for a second! Thank you! I’ll try it again…”

Crawly’s wings started to flap again, and this time he jumped up into the air, wings working furiously to keep him airborne. Crawly was wobbly and unsure of himself at first, until, soon, he was hovering, his eyebrows creased together in concentration. 

It was like watching a young bird take flight for the first time. 

“Shit!” Crawly gasped as he started to veer to one side. He managed to correct himself, wings beating frantically.

“You’re doing very well,” Aziraphale called up to him. “If you fall, I’ll catch you with my powers like a safety net. Don’t worry.”

“Thanks,” Crawly said between quick breaths. “Guess I’m rusty at this. It’s been a while.”

6000 years, Aziraphale realised with a start. No wonder he was so unsure of himself. 

Crawly flew higher, wings flapping at speed, and Aziraphale had to tilt his head back to watch him, gusts of air blowing against his face with each wing beat. 

There was a look of determination on Crawly’s face, his confidence buoyed, but then he ended up flying a little too close to the bookshop, and half-collided, half-landed on the windowsill of the upstairs sitting room. 

Crawly turned around awkwardly, and looked down at Aziraphale with an embarrassed grin. 

“Would you like some assistance getting down?” Aziraphale called up to him, giving him a fond smile.

Crawly shook his head, a look of steely resolve on his face. He stepped from the window ledge and glided down, hovering several feet off the ground for a moment before landing. 

Crawly was panting, clearly exhausted, but with a huge grin on his face. “That was incredible! I could feel the air through my wings again! I never thought-” he broke off, his voice cracking with emotion. He gazed at Aziraphale with such adoration that Aziraphale felt his cheeks blush. 

Crawly sat down heavily at the little table. “Sure takes it out of you,” he said after a moment, letting out a chuckle. “Thank you, Aziraphale. The last time I did that I was still an angel.”

***


	9. Chapter 9

***

Several days later, Crowley was draped across the sofa in the sitting room while Aziraphale was sat in his usual armchair. Aziraphale was reading, while Crowley was engrossed in a film.

“Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale looked up from his book with a smile. “Yes, my dear?”

Crowley gestured at the television. “Can I have sunglasses like that?” 

There were two men on the screen walking dramatically down a dark street, each wearing black sunglasses along with a black suit and tie. 

“I thought I could wear them around the humans,” Crowley said. “So then you wouldn’t need to use a miracle to stop them noticing my eyes.”

“Oh, Yes! That’s a good idea.”

The two men on screen pulled out unusual looking guns. 

“What programme is this?” Aziraphale asked worriedly.

“It’s called Men in Black! They’re secret agents that fight crime. And aliens!”

It was one of the coolest things Crowley had ever seen – second only to the James Bond film he had seen yesterday, after which Crowley had fantasised multiple times about being able to defend himself with a gun while Sandalphon came at him with a knife. After he discorporated the bastard, he’d say something cool like “I aim to please,” or “That was a shot in the dark,” or even, “Troubleshooting at it’s finest.”

Aziraphale closed his book and then set it down on the table beside him. “I’ll create some sunglasses for you. I’ve not performed any miracles in the last couple of days, so I can certainly spare some now.” 

“Thanks. Can I have a suit too? Like they wear?”

“Certainly,” said Aziraphale, and a second later, a pile of clothes materialised on the sofa beside Crowley, with sunglasses perched on the top. 

Crowley put the sunglasses on.

“Oh, yes, very good,” said Aziraphale with a nod of approval. “The glasses hide your eyes very well.” 

Crowley went into his bedroom to try on the clothes. He put on the trousers and the shirt, but struggled when it came to the tie. He’d never needed to wear one before, but he really wanted to complete the look. He gave up and went back to Aziraphale, who was still in his armchair.

“How are these supposed to work?” Crowley asked, unable to hide the frustration in his voice. 

“I’ll show you,” said Aziraphale, getting up from his seat. “I’ll just fetch a tie from my bedroom.”

Aziraphale returned a moment later with a tartan tie in the same colours as the bowtie he always wore. He unfastened the bowtie from around his neck and placed it over the arm of his chair. 

Aziraphale showed Crowley what to do in simple steps, and Crowley copied the actions until he got it right. Then he returned to his bedroom to put on the suit jacket.

He admired his new outfit in his full-length mirror. He did look remarkably like one of the Men in Black, and even a bit like James Bond.

Crowley took on a dramatic pose, shaping his hands like guns, feeling very cool, but the look wasn’t quite right. He pushed his long wavy hair away over his shoulders. James Bond and the main characters from Men in Black had short hair, and he wondered what his own hair might look like short. 

He returned to the sitting room to show Aziraphale his new clothes, his heart racing, hoping that Aziraphale would like his new look just as much as he did.

“Oh, very nice,” Aziraphale said with a smile. 

“Can I be around humans looking like this?”

Aziraphale nodded. “Yes, of course. You look like a human that works in a very prestigious office. Or a CIA agent! If you want a more casual look you could just remove the tie - or the jacket. But it’s entirely up to you.”

Crowley had to admit that he did feel rather like he had stepped out of a film. “Yeah, you’re right.” He removed his tie and unfastened the top button of his shirt. 

An advert on the television caught his eye. A man in a dark-red shirt was currently presenting a lady with some flowers - which could be sent to your beloved for what they assured was an extraordinarily good price. 

“What about a coloured shirt like that? Red or something? That’d be less office-y.”

Three neatly folded shirts appeared on the sofa in different colours - burgundy, grey-blue, and yellow. Crowley couldn’t help but notice that the last one was the exact same colour as his eyes. He wondered if it was on purpose.

“Thank you,” said Crowley as he picked them up.

Some whimsical music was coming from the television now, and a young man was gazing moodily into the middle distance. Everything was in dramatic greyscale. An expensive car drove past him and he gazed wistfully at it.

“That guy’s hair looks kinda cool…” Crowley said. “I suppose I’d fit in with the humans better if I had short hair like that.”

“I can miracle your hair short if you would like?”

“Please.”

“You won’t miss your curls?”

“Nah.” 

Aziraphale nodded. “I can always miracle your hair back again if you change your mind later. Ready?” 

Crowley nodded, and then he felt Aziraphale’s powers act upon his physical body. The hair that had been brushing against his neck and his shoulders vanished. Crowley reached up and then ran his fingers through the short sides and the sticky up bit at the front which seemed to defy gravity.

“I believe that effect is usually achieved using hair gel, but I managed it with a miracle. I’ll fetch a mirror so you can see it properly…”

Aziraphale left the room and returned a moment later with a full-length, free-standing mirror from his own bedroom. The frame was ornate, and the mirror itself was slightly mottled around the edges with age. He put it down in front of Crowley, who was left speechless for a moment at the sight of his reflection. 

“I think this hairstyle looks lovely,” Aziraphale said. “How do you feel?”

Crowley was amazed by his transformation. He looked so human. He stood up straight, thrilled by how cool and confident he looked now. But it wasn’t just the clothes and the hair, he felt a change in himself too. He felt brand new. 

The last few weeks had changed him. He was happy here - happier than he’d been in 6000 years. And he liked Aziraphale more than he ever thought possible, more than he ever thought he’d allow himself. He had tried to remain wary of him, but there was something about the angel that was impossible not to like. 

When he looked in the mirror, he didn’t see ‘Crawly’ anymore – small, weak and broken – he saw Crowley, his true self. This was who he’d always wanted to be. He didn’t want to be Crawly anymore, he wanted to leave that part of his life far behind him. 

He turned to Aziraphale, nervous suddenly, and Aziraphale’s eyebrows creased in concern. 

“Would it be okay if-?” Crowley couldn’t get the words out. He’d never shared his true name with anyone before and it made him feel vulnerable. His heart was racing, but he trusted Aziraphale not to mock him or use his real name against him. 

“It’s okay,” Aziraphale said. “I can still use another miracle or two. Would you like me to change something else?” 

This change wouldn’t take a miracle, although it might feel like it. “Can I change my name, please?”

Aziraphale looked surprised. “Of course you can, my dear. What would you like me to call you? Or do you need time to choose a name?”

“I’ve already decided,” Crowley said. He took a deep breath. “Crowley. My name is Crowley.” It felt so strange to say his name out loud to someone. Whilst living with Michael and Sandalphon, he had occasionally talked to himself – given himself pep talks and encouragements – and he had called himself Crowley then. But he had never said his name in front of anyone else before.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale repeated, trying the name out. “That’s a wonderful name.”

Crowley smiled. He hadn’t realised how much Aziraphale’s approval would mean to him, or how much he would enjoy hearing someone else say his name. 

“Would you like me to call you Crowley in front of other people? Humans? Angels?”

Crowley considered this for a moment. “In front of the humans, yes. But not in front of any angels just yet.” 

He had a vision of the other angels laughing at his new name, tearing apart something that meant the world to him, something that was deeply personal. Although, to be honest, Gabriel would probably forget it instantly and just continue calling him Cowlee.

***

A few days later, Aziraphale was speaking on the telephone in the sitting room, ordering two pizzas. 

“Crowley? They’re offering us ice-cream. Chocolate or vanilla?”

“Chocolate.”

“Jolly good.” 

Aziraphale had spent the last few days using Crowley’s new name as much as possible, partly to help himself become used to the name change, but mostly because it made Crowley smile every time he said it. There had been one or two slip ups - a Craw-Crowley here and there - but he’d quickly become used to the new name. ‘Crowley’ suited the demon far better than ‘Crawly’ ever had.

Aziraphale hung up the telephone receiver. “They said the food should arrive in about half-an-hour. Now, I’ve had a thought. Would you like to come with me to answer the door? You wouldn’t have to do or say anything – I just thought you might like to see a human.”

Crowley sat up straight, nodding enthusiastically.

They went downstairs into the bookshop. Aziraphale explained what to expect from their visitor, and that they would be swapping human money for the pizza. 

Aziraphale took some £10 notes out of his wallet. “They will mostly just want to make the exchange as quickly as possible so that they can get to their next delivery. The entire thing shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

“Do you know this human?” 

“There are several different people that do the deliveries, so I’m not sure which one we’ll get,” Aziraphale explained. “I don’t know these people overly well, but they’ve all been very friendly and professional. Usually it’s this lovely young lady who rides around on a white bicycle.” 

Aziraphale hoped it would be her. She was cheerful, polite and unthreatening. Aziraphale suspected that she would remain professional even if Crowley acted a bit strangely. But whoever arrived, Aziraphale felt sure he would be able to keep control over the situation no matter what happened, even if he had to use a miracle to do it. He wanted this to go as smoothly as possible. Crowley seemed excited right now but that might all change once he was confronted with a stranger. 

It felt as though he was more nervous right now than Crowley was.

There was a knock at the door.

“Is that her?” Crowley asked. “Your lady on a white bike?”

Before Aziraphale even opened the door, he knew it wasn’t her – he could see a man’s silhouette through the small dusty windows in the door. 

“It’s one of the others. Just keep back a few steps and let me do the talking.”

“Okay.”

Aziraphale opened the door, revealing a man in ripped black jeans and a leather jacket with colourful patches sewn onto the arms. The patches had words like ‘Nirvana’ and “Queen’ on them, and even the outrageous phrase ‘The Sex Pistols’ which seemed an overly raunchy thing to have written upon one’s person. The man had bright green hair, an eyebrow piecing, and a nose ring. His motorcycle had a picture of a skull on it. 

This was all a bit much. 

“That’s £20 quid, mate,” said the man with a smile. 

Aziraphale quickly unfolded the money and handed it over. 

Aziraphale turned to look at Crowley, half expecting to find him mid panic attack, but Crowley was staring at the man with awe and admiration.

The delivery man caught sight of Crowley and gave him a smile too. “Hey,” he said, and held out the pizza boxes. 

Before Aziraphale knew what to do, Crowley had already taken the boxes from him.

“Thanks,” said Crowley. “I like your arm patches. Queen are cool.”

“I know, right? I saw them in concert when I was ten and I’ve been hooked ever since.” 

The man removed two tubs of ice-cream from a bag on his motorcycle and handed them over to Aziraphale. 

“Cheers,” he said with a nod towards both of them, and then he got back onto his motorcycle and put his helmet on. 

As he sped away, Aziraphale closed the door. 

Crowley turned towards him excitedly. “I spoke to a human!”

“Well done, my dear.” 

“Thank you. It wasn’t scary or anything though. I mean, you were right here.”

Aziraphale smiled, pleased to know that his presence made Crowley feel safe.

“Did you see his hair? Bright green!” Crowley said as they walked through the shop towards the kitchen. “I’ve never seen anyone with bright hair like mine before. I didn’t know human hair came in colours like that.”

“Oh, it’s not that colour naturally. He must have dyed it.”

“He was able to choose his hair colour?” 

Aziraphale nodded. “If you would like to change your hair colour, I could buy some hair dye for you. Or use a miracle,” Aziraphale suggested, though he probably shouldn’t use any more miracles today if he could help it.

“Nah. I like it red. It’s cool they can change their hair colour though.”

Once they reached the kitchen Aziraphale put the ice-cream tubs in the freezer. 

“What’s Queen?” Aziraphale asked as he sat down at the kitchen table and then opened his pizza box.

“They’re a band,” said Crowley. “The first time I vacuumed in the sitting room some of their songs were playing on one of the music channels, and I’ve heard them a few times since. They’re one of my favourites.” 

***

Aziraphale walked into a little record shop on the outskirts of London.

The shop owner rushed over to greet him, a huge smile on his face. “Good morning, Mr Fell! What brings you here today?”

This was the only place recently that Aziraphale had been able to purchase records to play on his ancient gramophone. The owner was almost always able to get hold of whatever he wanted – songs that he hadn’t heard in decades, even in a century or two.

“Something a bit more modern this time, my dear boy,” said Aziraphale. “A gift for a friend. Have you heard of Queen?”

The man smiled. “I certainly have. We have most of their vinyl records in stock. Follow me.” He led Aziraphale over to a display stand full of records. 

There was an entire section dedicated to Queen.

“My goodness! Queen must be very popular indeed,” Aziraphale said in amazement. “Will these play on my gramophone?”

The owner pulled a face. “Well. Technically, they would, but it’d sound God awful.” 

“Oh, that’s a shame. I was rather hoping my friend could play them on my gramophone. Not to worry though. Do you sell players for these records?”

Half an hour later, Aziraphale left the shop in possession of a dozen Queen records and a portable record player. 

Crowley was so pleased with his gift that he took it around the house with him, listening to Queen outside while he was gardening, and in the kitchen while he washed the dishes. But mostly he kept it in his bedroom, listening to the music before he went to bed. 

Queen wasn’t really to Aziraphale’s taste, but seeing Crowley enjoying the music made him happy, and some of the songs were starting to grow on him. 

***

Aziraphale opened up the bookshop to the public a few days later, and Crowley was pleased to be allowed in there at the same time.

Only a handful of people came into the shop that day, and Crowley wasn’t sure if this was by a miracle - so as not to overwhelm him - or simply because the bookshop was never very busy. He suspected the latter.

Crowley kept his distance from the customers to start with, still feeling nervous especially since Aziraphale was no longer at his side - Aziraphale had settled down at his desk - but before long Crowley felt brave enough to come out into the open. He leant casually against a caramel-coloured pillar in the centre of the shop while a middle-aged woman browsed the best sellers section – the only books which Aziraphale was actually willing to part with. 

He hoped the woman might want to chat, but she paid him no attention apart from casting an uninterested glance his way before heading to the desk to pay for a book. 

This seemed to be a common theme. Bookshops were not sociable places to be it seemed.

The customers ignored him, but he didn’t take it personally. They ignored each other too, unless they had come in with someone, and the only time they spoke to Aziraphale was if they wanted to buy something or needed some help. The humans seemed to think Crowley was just another customer, and so it was only when he was up a stepladder returning a book to a high shelf and ignoring the humans around him that someone decided to talk to him. 

“Excuse me, how much is this?”

Crowley spun around, and looked down at a man who was waving a book at him. “Oh,” Crowley said, realising that the man thought he worked there. “I’ll ask Mr Fell.” 

He led the man over to Aziraphale, who was sat at his desk, sorting through some papers. 

“How much is this?” the man asked, putting the book down on the desk in front of him. 

Aziraphale smiled sweetly. “Three hundred pounds.”

“What? That’s outrageous! It’s old and dog-eared!”

“It’s a first edition, my dear. Two hundred years old. And it was signed by the author. But not to worry, I have some more reasonably priced copies towards the front of the shop.” And with that, he led the man away to find a book he was actually willing to part with. 

Crowley had noticed a fair few ‘dear boys’ and ‘my dears,’ being thrown around, and it was disappointing to learn that those endearments were not for him alone, but that didn’t make him smile any less when one was directed at him. 

***


	10. Chapter 10

***

Aziraphale opened the shop most days over the next week, and Crowley was allowed to wander in and out as he pleased – so long as he wore the sunglasses to hide his eyes of course. 

Crowley liked being in the shop, and watching the humans come and go. He had spent so long feeling unwanted and alone that he was glad of every opportunity to be around people. 

One Sunday, when the shop was closed for once and he was outside in the garden, he heard a noise behind him and turned to see a cat squeezing through the narrow gap under the garden gate. 

The cat spotted him and froze. Crowley froze too, afraid that he might frighten it away, but instead the cat walked up to him and then rubbed against his leg. It let out a small meow.

Crowley grinned, absolutely delighted. He looked down into yellow eyes that matched his own, suddenly understanding how Aziraphale had mistaken him for being a cat-demon. 

“Do you think I’m a cat too, just like you?” Crowley asked with a smile. 

Crowley had never seen a cat in real life before, though he had seen them on the television and illustrated in books plenty of times. He wondered what its fur felt like so he reached down and touched its back. Soft and silky. 

“Ah, I see you’ve met Cupcake,” Aziraphale said from the doorway to the kitchen. “He belongs to a little girl a few doors down.”

Crowley looked up at Aziraphale, who was holding two plates of sandwiches.

“He’s very friendly,” Crowley said, stroking his hand gently back and forth along the cat’s back. 

“Only stroke in the same direction as his fur, my dear. Yes, that’s it.” 

Cupcake started to purr, but before long he was dashing over to the table and chairs where Aziraphale had sat down. Cupcake rubbed up against Aziraphale’s leg and let out frantic meows.

“What’s wrong with him?” Crowley asked. 

“He knows we have chicken in our sandwiches and he wants it,” Aziraphale said.

Cupcake gave up on Aziraphale and slunk over to Crowley who had just sat down at the table. Cupcake placed a front paw on Crowley’s leg and looked up at him woefully. The meowing intensified. 

Crowley hated the thought of anybody going hungry, and clearly this poor cat had not eaten in a long time. “Can I give him some of my chicken? He seems hungry.”

“Rest assured, Cupcake has a bowl of biscuits waiting for him back at home, and he gets plenty of wet food too. He’s spoiled rotten. But you can feed him a little bit of chicken if you’d like to, so long as we don’t ruin his appetite for his dinner when he gets home.” 

Crowley pulled a small piece of chicken from his sandwich, and then offered it to the cat, who devoured it in one bite. The cat then immediately started pawing at Crowley’s leg while meowing.

“He knows I’m an easy touch,” Crowley said with a laugh. 

Crowley started eating his sandwich, but took a moment to put another piece of chicken to one side. It was only when he had finished eating that he allowed Cupcake the last piece of chicken. When Cupcake had eaten that, he continued to pester him for food, jumping up onto Crowley’s lap. Crowley was delighted to have a cat sat on him, and he petted him happily while Cupcake surveyed their empty plates with disappointment. Realising there was nothing left for him here, Cupcake hopped down and then squeezed back under the gate until he was out of sight, marching away down the passageway into the street beyond. 

Crowley wished he could follow him out into the world.

***

“Oh,” said Aziraphale wistfully, “I could do with a nice cup of tea and a sticky bun.”

Crowley looked up from where he had been lounging on a sofa in the bookshop. 

Aziraphale was sat at his desk. He had been sorting through his finances, with his little spectacles perched on the end of his nose as he flicked through countless ledgers, scribbling numbers down every now and then. But he had just put all of that to one side.

Crowley put down the book he had been reading. “I’ll put the kettle on,” he said, getting to his feet.

Aziraphale gestured for him to wait. “No, no. Not yet. I was thinking I’d pick something up from the bakery just down the street first.”

Crowley’s eyes lit up. Everything Aziraphale bought from that bakery was delicious. 

“Would you like to come with me? It’s about a five minute walk away. Not very far.”

Crowley sat up straight, his heart racing with nervous excitement. He was eager to go out into the human world. “I’d like that. But I need my sunglasses! I’ll be right back!”

He raced upstairs, grabbed his sunglasses from his desk, and then shoved them onto his face. Looking in the mirror, he straightened his shirt, ran his fingers through his hair, and then took a jacket out of his wardrobe in case it was cold outside. He ran downstairs and joined Aziraphale beside the still closed front door.

“Keep close to me, Crowley, and if it all gets too much we can always turn around. Your comfort is the most important thing here, so don’t hesitate to let me know how you’re feeling.” 

Crowley nodded, and then Aziraphale opened the door. 

The angel stepped out into the street, and then turned around to face him. “Take your time, my dear,” Aziraphale said gently.

Crowley gazed out of the doorway. He had seen the street when the delivery driver had come, and he had seen it from the windows of the shop, but this was still a lot to take in. 

Somebody walked past Aziraphale hurriedly, their head down, and then a car glided past, followed by another, and another. Two humans stepped around Aziraphale, chatting away to each other, barely seeming to notice the pair of them.

“We can do this another time if you’re not comfortable,” Aziraphale said. “And I can bring back anything you want from the bakery.”

Crowley shook his head. “I want to come with you,” he said, and he crossed over the threshold onto the pavement and stood beside Aziraphale. He looked back at the interior of the shop through the open door, reassured by the familiarity of it, prepared to dash back inside if anything startled him. He looked at Aziraphale, and then moved closer to him, feeling safer in his company. 

There were a lot of people around – in comparison to how many people were usually in the bookshop at least – and it took Crowley a moment to get used to the hustle and bustle. Eventually he closed the door.

Aziraphale smiled at him. “The bakery is down there on the left,” Aziraphale said, pointing. “I’ll lock up the shop before we set off - when you’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” Crowley said, glancing at the passing humans, utterly fascinated by them. 

Aziraphale locked the shop and then they set off.

As tempting as it was to stop and stare at the many sights, Crowley wouldn’t allow himself to become distracted. He knew Aziraphale wouldn’t leave him behind but he kept as close to him as possible all the same. 

“That’s the place,” said Aziraphale, pointing at a little shop just ahead of them. “How are you feeling?” 

“Yeah. I’m good.”

“Would you like to go inside the shop?”

“Please,” Crowley said, as he looked through the window and saw the treats on display.

Aziraphale led the way through the door. 

There were tables and chairs set against one wall where people were eating and drinking, but right in front of Crowley there was a long line of people. 

“We just need to join this queue, and then we can choose what we would like to eat,” Aziraphale said. 

Crowley nodded, and they joined the queue.

Music could be heard over the sound of people chattering, and Crowley could smell coffee. He gazed around the room, amazed by all of the different people, and then he looked back at Aziraphale who was smiling at him, looking relieved. 

The queue moved forward and the counter came into view. Crowley gazed at the pastries though the clear glass, and by the time they were almost at the front of the queue, they’d had a good look at everything. 

Crowley looked up at a board listing the drinks they sold. “Wow I didn’t know there were so many types of coffee. What’s a Cappuccino? And a Mocha? And what the hell is a Caramel Frappuccino?” 

“It’s made with caramel sauce and whipped cream. Mocha has chocolate and whipped cream. A Cappuccino is what we have at home, except the milk here is steamed.”

“Chocolate and coffee together?” 

“Would you like to try it?” 

“Yes, please.”

“They do takeaway drinks in paper cups, so we can get those, unless… would you like to eat inside?”

Crowley turned away from the menu to look at him.

“We don’t have to, of course,” Aziraphale said quickly. “I just wanted you to know it’s an option. In case it’s something you’d like to try. You do seem to be handling everything very well, but we can go back home with our food and drinks if you would prefer.”

“I’d like to eat here,” Crowley said, excited at the thought of it.

Crowley looked around, feeling surprised at himself. At one time, he would have felt terrified in a place like this, surrounded by people he didn’t know, but everyone was keeping to themselves, and he had Aziraphale here to protect him. He wanted to stay.

Their food was plated up for them at the till, along with their drinks, and then they went over to an empty table at the back.

Crowley watched the people wandering in and out of the shop, fascinated by them.

“Please don’t stare, my dear,” Aziraphale whispered. “You’ll make people uncomfortable.”

“Sorry,” Crowley said. “Did you see those children earlier? So tiny! I’ve seen kids on TV before but never in real life. I can’t get over how small they are.” 

Aziraphale chuckled. “It’s amazing how much humans can grow in only a few years.”

“I’m glad I didn’t start off small like that. Can you imagine if we started off as cherubs?”

Aziraphale laughed.

Crowley sat back in his chair, gazing around the room, taking in the smells, the sights and the sounds. He felt tears come to his eyes.

“Oh, what’s wrong?” Aziraphale said, “Do you want to go home? We can take our food and drinks with us-”

“Nah, it’s okay. I’m alright. I just never thought I’d be allowed in somewhere like this. I’ve seen cafes and stuff on TV, but I… I never thought I’d get to go into one, let alone eat in one. Thank you for this.” 

Aziraphale smiled. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it here. It’s one of my favourite places, and it’s nice to be able to come here together.” 

***

Crowley opened his eyes, shocked awake despite the early hour by the realisation that he felt aroused. This was the first time he’d felt this way whilst living here. Fear had killed his sex drive, but he felt safe now, safer than he’d felt in a long time.

Whilst living with Michael his sex drive had been normal – as far as he was concerned anyway – and the pleasure he had found in his physical body had been a welcome distraction from his new life as a lowly servant.

Then he’d been sold to Sandalphon.

At first Crowley had thought that Sandalphon had used a miracle to take away his ability to feel aroused - and just hadn’t bothered to tell him about it. But eventually he realised that his sex drive was just low due to the constant stress and fear he always felt. Nothing could kill the mood quite like being injured on a regular basis. His libido did return every now and then, mostly when Sandalphon was away for a few days or sometimes after a discorporation when Crowley was in the Demon Rehoming House for a while. It was comforting to be around the other demons, far away from Sandalphon. The first time anyone touched him intimately – besides himself - had been in the Demon Rehoming House. 

Laying on his stomach, Crowley squirmed, rubbing himself against the bed. He stifled a moan, trying his best to keep himself quiet - Aziraphale might be in his bedroom right now.

Crowley rolled onto his back, pushed up his shirt, and then pulled down his pyjama bottoms before taking hold of himself. He bit his lower lip as his eyes drifted closed.

When was the last time he’d done this? Oh, yes, in the Demon Rehoming House, with the help of another demon who had reached through the bars between them and stroked him. Crowley shivered, remembering how good it had felt. But, oh, this felt good too, and it was wonderful to be able to do this somewhere safe without bars, without the threat of guards or an owner finding him. He had privacy here. Aziraphale always asked permission before entering his room. He would never just barge in.

It didn’t take long for orgasm to take him, leaving him gasping for breath and trembling with the force of it. It always felt more intense when it had been a while since the last time, and it had been an awfully long time.

He dragged himself out of bed and then went into the bathroom to have a shower. 

While Crowley washed himself he realised that he’d probably never see any of the other demons ever again. There was no reason for him to go back to the Demon Rehoming House. The thought of never going back there certainly didn’t upset him in itself, but knowing that he’d never see the other demons ever again - never touch them or be touched, never share that level of intimacy with another person ever again - broke his heart. 

Although… 

Perhaps he could share himself with Aziraphale. 

At one time, the thought of having sex with Aziraphale - or any angel - would have terrified him, but Aziraphale was his friend. Aziraphale would never make him do anything in bed that he didn’t want to do, or push him into doing anything he wasn’t ready for. He trusted him.

Aziraphale was handsome, sweet, and kind. There was a vulnerability to him that Crowley had never seen in an angel before.

It was clear that Aziraphale desired him. Even now, Crowley saw the guilty, embarrassed glances, and the way Aziraphale blushed whenever Crowley wore anything fitted or even slightly revealing. 

In the past, there had always been bars in the way when he had sex with someone, but he and Aziraphale could press their entire bodies together. They could kiss and touch each other as much as they wanted. 

Crowley’s cock started to stiffen again. He looked down at himself. “Again?” he murmured. 

He took himself in hand, imagining that it was Aziraphale’s fingers stroking him. 

He wondered if Aziraphale would want to suck him, and if he enjoy it as much as he did. Crowley imagined Aziraphale getting down onto his knees and taking him into his mouth, making those same little sounds he made whenever he tasted anything he particularly enjoyed. Crowley’s hand moved faster, and he let out a whimper. He imagined himself doing the same for Aziraphale, swallowing him to the hilt, using his forked tongue to do things that would blow Aziraphale’s mind. Crowley had been told many times that he was good with his tongue, and he was sure he could impress Aziraphale. He’d be way better at sucking dick than any humans Aziraphale might have been with. Aziraphale would be so glad he chose him. The thought of Aziraphale - usually so prim and proper - losing his composure, begging for it, gasping as he came down Crowley’s throat, made Crowley bite back a cry and cum across the shower tiles. 

Crowley was stood with one hand braced against the wall, his legs trembling. He stayed like that for a while, water hitting his back while he slowly got his breath back.

He cleaned away the mess he had made before getting out of the shower and drying himself.

Did he really want to have sex with Aziraphale? Perhaps it had only seemed a good idea in the heat of the moment. Crowley felt overwhelmed by the thought of it. He didn’t feel ready to take such a big step just yet but he found himself longing for it to happen one day. It seemed only natural for them to become that close - it would strengthen the friendship already between them. 

Aziraphale had told him he would never take advantage of him, but if Crowley let him know that he wanted this, that he was ready, then maybe Aziraphale would agree to it. Crowley knew that he would have to be the one to make the first move. 

While it was possible that he had misinterpreted Aziraphale’s feelings towards him, he didn’t think Aziraphale would be angry or offended by the offer. If Aziraphale didn’t want him in that way, he would let him down gently, and hopefully it wouldn’t change the friendship that had blossomed between them.

Crowley got dressed in front of the full length mirror in his bedroom, looking at his naked body and suddenly longing to be female, to be able to pleasure himself in that form. He had not been female in over 100 years. 

Michael had allowed him to change gender. For the first millennia or so, Michael swapped genders fairly regularly before deciding she felt much more comfortable in a female body and chose to stay like that. She had never had any problem allowing Crowley to change gender whenever he asked. Crowley hadn’t preferred one over the other like Michael had, but he had spent more time in his male form and therefore felt more comfortable like that.

When Michael sold him to the Demon Rehoming House, the manager asked him which gender he would like to be. Crowley asked if he could be both, and had been told not to be so greedy. 

When Sandalphon was his owner, Crowley had been too afraid to ask for a change of gender. 

He was scared to ask Aziraphale too, but for an entirely different reason. In the Demon Rehoming House, Aziraphale had specifically asked for a male demon. He might think less of him if he knew he liked to be female. Crowley wanted Aziraphale to like him. He looked up to him, and he wanted more than anything to be his best friend. If Aziraphale preferred him male, he was fine with that, he didn’t want to risk disappointing him.

Making Aziraphale happy would always be his top priority.

***

The ending credits of the film they had been watching started to roll down the screen, bouncy music playing over the top. 

Crowley shifted on the sofa, stretching and letting out a contented sigh. He picked up the remote control and started to flick through the channels to see what they could watch next. 

“Crowley?”

Crowley looked across at Aziraphale, who was sat in his armchair looking tense. 

Crowley hurriedly held out the remote control towards Aziraphale, worried that he had been hogging the television.

“No, thank you, my dear. I just- Can we have a little chat, please?”

Crowley nodded, dread twisting in his stomach. He cast his mind back, trying to remember if he’d done something that might have upset Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale sat forward, his hands clasped together. “You’ve not done anything wrong, don’t worry. I just thought we ought to talk about… Well, you’ve been here almost eight weeks now, and you will need to take that medicine soon, so… Er.”

A wave of dizziness washed over Crowley, and his grip tightened on the remote control. Had it really been that long? It only felt like he’d been here a few weeks. 

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale continued. “I shouldn’t have waited so long to discuss it with you- Oh!”

Crowley leapt up, the remote control tumbling to the ground with a clatter and making them both jump. Crowley took a step towards the door, and then forced himself to stay still even though every fibre of his being was telling him to run away and hide. 

“I can use my powers to numb the pain,” Aziraphale said quickly. “I don’t want to hurt you, but you need to take that medicine. Is there anything I can do to make it easier for you? How do you usually-” 

Crowley shook his head. “I don’t want to,” he blurted out. “It hurts!”

It was the worst pain he’d ever experienced. Worse that falling, worse than discorporating. It felt like dying, and every time it happened he feared it would kill him for real - utterly destroy him. It never got any easier. How could anyone ever get used to something like that? To make matters worse, Sandalphon used the medicine as part of his punishments, and he didn’t always wait the full eight weeks before he did it either. 

Aziraphale looked miserable, but Crowley couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. 

“Please don’t! I’ll do anything you want!”

“I don’t have a choice, Crowley,” Aziraphale said. “I’m sorry. Your powers will come back if I don’t-”

“I won’t use my powers! I’ll be good! No one will ever know!” Crowley let out a sob. “You-” And he cut himself off, because saying, ‘You said you’d never hurt me,’ would be unforgivable. It was manipulative and cruel, and Aziraphale didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve any of this. Crowley knew he should appreciate the fact that Aziraphale was discussing this with him instead of just forcing the medicine down his throat like the other angels had. Aziraphale didn’t want to hurt him, Crowley could see it in his eyes.

Crowley stared at the floor, overwhelmed with shame. “I- I’m sorry. I know I have to. It’s not your fault.”

Crowley had known all along that he was going to have to take those tablets. The eight weeks had just passed faster than he’d expected, that was all. He’d been caught off guard. 

“Don’t apologise,” Aziraphale said. “I’m the one who should apologise. You don’t deserve this. I know this isn’t much of a consolation, but I thought maybe we could delay it… instead of every eight weeks, like the manual says, we could make it nine. The manual says your powers come back after ten weeks so… if we make it nine and a few days... The manual said eight but…”

Aziraphale sat forward with his head in his hands. He was silent, save for his breathing, which was shaky and laboured. For a moment Crowley thought he was crying, but then Aziraphale looked up, a look of determination on his face. 

“You say that if your powers come back, you won’t use them?” 

Crowley stared at him in disbelief. 

Aziraphale was wringing his hands together. “I suppose no one would know, would they? So long as you didn’t use your powers. They wouldn’t know you hadn’t taken the tablets. I could dispose of the tablets one at a time so no one would ever know…”

Crowley couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Surely Aziraphale wasn’t really considering this? He’d be breaking one of Heaven’s rules.

“We could keep it a secret from the other angels,” Aziraphale said. “The manual said it’s impossible to be able to sense the difference between a demon that’s still recovering from the medicine and one that has fully recovered – unless they were caught performing a miracle. Or they took a tablet very recently and were still incapacitated. Of course, this was all part of a warning to make sure the pill had definitely been taken,” Aziraphale said bitterly. “Though it gave me other ideas.” Aziraphale looked Crowley in the eye. “We’d be taking an enormous risk. It would be dangerous. We’d have to be so very careful. You’d have to be sure this is something you want. If we got found out...” 

“I’ll be so careful if you do this for me. I promise. I’ll do anything you want. Anything.” 

Aziraphale’s face flushed. 

Crowley wondered, nervously, if Aziraphale might take him up on the offer. He half expected Aziraphale to ask, “Anything?” and he was already formulating a response to that because, really, he would happily do anything Aziraphale wanted if it meant he didn’t have to feel like he was dying six times a year. Besides, this would be dangerous for Aziraphale too, and he deserved something in return. What could Crowley offer him besides himself? All he had was his physical body, and he didn’t even own that, not really. But he could use it to make Aziraphale happy. 

“I will have to trust you, Crowley,” Aziraphale said. “You’ll get your powers back, and I have to trust that you won’t take advantage of that. You must understand… if you use your powers to run away or something, then Heaven will come after you and I wouldn’t be able to stop them-”

“I would never!” Crowley said, shocked that Aziraphale would even consider that a possibility. “Why would- You’ve been so good to me. I can’t even begin to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I would never take advantage of you or run away. I have a good life here. You’re the only one who cares about me. And I care about you too.”

“My dear boy...” Aziraphale’s face softened. He let out a sigh. “I’ve been dreading having to make you take that medicine, it’s a huge weight off my mind to not have to do it. When they forced you- It was barbaric! I don’t want you to ever go through that again. I should have stopped them. And I should have made this decision long ago.” 

Crowley sat down again, feeling overwhelmed. Love burned in his chest. “Thank you, angel. I won’t let you down. You won’t regret this.”

***

The next day, they took a twenty-minute stroll to St. James’ park.

The streets were busy, and Aziraphale had worried about Crowley in the crowds, but the demon had kept close to him - just as he had on the walk to the bakery – and he seemed at ease. It had helped that Aziraphale had used a couple of miracles to convince people to cross the street away from them to give Crowley some space.

In the park, Aziraphale encouraged Crowley to lead the way, and the demon took them over to various flowerbeds and trees to get a better look.

Would it still be safe to bring Crowley out here when his powers returned in two weeks time? Aziraphale couldn’t imagine the demon running amok and using his dark magic to cause chaos, but Aziraphale found himself worrying all the same. He trusted Crowley, he really did, but Gabriel’s words still rang in his ear – that demons were manipulative and sneaky, and Crowley would take advantage of any kindness offered to him. 

Aziraphale worried that he was being played for a fool. What if all of Crowley’s frightened outbursts had been carefully orchestrated to convince Aziraphale to give him what he wanted? He felt ashamed for even considering it. Crowley’s fear and panic had been genuine. Besides, at the end of the day, Aziraphale had only given Crowley what he had been willing to give. 

For all of his worrying, he always arrived at the same conclusion – making Crowley take those holy water capsules was unthinkable. Aziraphale was still haunted by the memory of Crowley screaming and writhing in pain on the floor of the Demon Rehoming House. He had been looking for any excuse to not have to put him through that again.

Crowley led them over to a quiet space by the lake, and a group of ducks immediately dashed across the water towards them. Aziraphale had brought a bag of breadcrumbs with him, and together they threw the bread to the ducks.

Crowley looked delighted every time a duck ate some of the bread he had thrown. Some of the braver ducks came ashore and gathered at their feet. Crowley stooped down and attempted to pet one. The duck let out a furious quack and pecked his hand before waddling away. 

Crowley took a step back, cradling his pecked hand. He glared at the duck as it returned to the water. “What was that for?” 

Aziraphale rushed to his side. “Are you hurt?”

“Nah. It just surprised me is all,” Crowley said, lowering his hand after giving it a last glance over. “I only wanted to pet it like I did with the cat.”

“Ducks don’t like to be touched,” Aziraphale explained. 

“Oh.” Crowley said, looking disappointed. “I thought they’d like to have their wings stroked at least.” 

There was a pause in which Aziraphale considered the insinuation that Crowley liked to have his wings stroked. “Most birds don’t, especially the wild ones.” 

They continued to feed the ducks. 

“Do those big white birds over there like to be pet?” Crowley asked.

“No!” Aziraphale said quickly as several swans swam towards them. “Swans can be quite vicious. Please resist the urge to pet the wildlife, my dear.”

Crowley nodded.

Before they left the park they bought ice-cream from a van, and then ate it as they walked home. 

***


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter could do with a content warning? But I'm not really sure how to explain it without massive spoilers... So I'll put it in the end notes in case you want to check. (It's relating to sexual themes)

***

Later that evening, Aziraphale was alone in the backroom of his bookshop. 

He kept his rarest books in here, and also his computer which he had purchased in the 1980s. He mostly used it for accounting and doing his taxes, but today he was very carefully editing a spread-sheet, adding in a few brownie points which he had recently received from Heaven for a job well done.

There was a loud knock on the door.

Aziraphale turned in his seat. He was just about to tell Crowley that he could come in when the door burst open anyway. 

Gabriel strode into the room as if he owned the place.

Behind him stood Crowley, drying his hands on a tea towel while staring into the room, utterly fascinated. Crowley hadn’t been into the backroom yet. No wonder he looked so intrigued. 

Crowley spoke to Gabriel. “Can I get you a herbal-?”

“No,” Gabriel said sharply. “You are to leave us undisturbed. Get back to your washing up.” 

And with that Gabriel slammed the door in his face. 

Aziraphale frowned angerily. He wanted to tell Gabriel off for being so rude to poor Crowley, but he knew it would be no use. He didn’t want to risk angering his superior, especially now that he had a favour to ask of him. 

“Gabriel! Just the angel I wanted to see! I could really do with your assistance.”

“Really?” Gabriel puffed up his chest proudly. “What do you need my help with?” 

“I’ve been doing my finances,” said Aziraphale, gesturing at the computer screen. “And I’m terribly close to being able to afford a second demon-”

“You want a new demon?! What’s wrong with the one you’ve already got?”

“Nothing,” Aziraphale reassured him. “I just thought it would be nice for him to have a friend. And besides, the Demon Rehoming House is an awful place. I would like to help another demon just as I have helped Crowley.”

Aziraphale realised that he had accidently used Crowley’s new name in front of Gabriel. At first, Crowley had been unsure about using his new name in front of the other angels, but he had recently decided to leave his old name behind completely. He had given Aziraphale permission to share his new name. Aziraphale had intended to explain the change to Gabriel rather than just casually dropping the name like that, but Gabriel didn’t seem to have even noticed.

Aziraphale started to explain. “Crawly has changed his name to Cr-”

But Gabriel was already talking over him, anger in his voice. “Are you begging for points? I’m not going to give you a commendation just because of some stupid sob story. You have to earn your points. And quite frankly I’m shocked that you would have the nerve to-”

“No! No! I wasn’t- I’d never ask for a commendation. I was rather hoping you might be in a position to lend me some points – if you can spare them. As a loan - which I would pay back as soon as possible.”

Gabriel crossed his arms. “Absolutely not.”

Aziraphale deflated. “I’m sorry. I just really want to help another demon.”

“They’re not puppies that need rehoming!” Gabriel scoffed. “It’s a terrible idea. You’d be outnumbered. They’d scheme.”

“But I really do feel that Crowley would benefit from having another demon here with him. I don’t suppose- Maybe you could bring Beelzebub for a visit…” 

A look of pure rage distorted Gabriel’s features. Aziraphale drew back. 

“No!” Gabriel shouted. “They’re demons, not children - demons don’t get play dates! Don’t ask me such a stupid question ever again! I’m not letting you anywhere near Beelzebub!”

“S- Sorry,” Aziraphale said quietly. 

“Anyway, I didn’t come here to listen to this drivel. I have actual news to give you. It’s top secret.” Gabriel glanced around the room, suspicion in his eyes. He opened the door, peered out into the corridor and then closed it again, looking reassured.

“I don’t want your demon listening in. This is for divine ears only.” Gabriel drew a chair close to Aziraphale. He sat down and lowered his voice. “It’s about… him.”

“Who?”

Gabriel made a frustrated noise. 

“Oh! You mean Satan-”

“Don’t speak his name! The walls have ears!”

“Oh, of course. Terribly sorry. Have they found him?”

“He’s been sighted in- What’s that bit at the top of this island called?”

“…Scotland?”

“That’s the one. It’s a horrible place with a terrible taste in fashion.” Gabriel paused and gave Aziraphale’s tartan bowtie a harsh look. “Too many kilts.”

“They don’t wear kilts all that much nowadays,” said Aziraphale. He quickly changed the subject. “What’s he doing there? I thought he was in America.”

“He was - last we knew - but he keeps moving around. It’s humanity’s fault, they keep inventing faster and faster modes of travel. It’s a logistical nightmare trying to keep track of his whereabouts. As soon as we think we have him pin-pointed he’s off again. But anyway - keep an eye out for him and his little gang of cronies.” 

Aziraphale tensed. “He has cronies? How many? Are they likely to come looking for me?”

“There’s only two or three of them. And no, of course not, they keep as far away from angels as they can. But be careful if you do see them. They rarely use their powers, they’re scared of us honing in on them, but if cornered there’s no telling what they’ll do. Just contact Head Office if you see anything suspicious, then we can finally get them rounded up.” 

“Thank you for the heads up.”

“Needless to say, don’t breathe a word of this to your demon. If the rest of the demons learn that some of their kind managed to escape and stay hidden, it’d give them ideas.”

“Of course.” 

Gabriel stood up. “Well, I’ve got places to be. Miracles to perform. I’ll let myself out – No, don’t get up.”

Before Gabriel reached the door, he turned to face Aziraphale. “And you can forget your idiotic idea of buying another demon - unless you want to turn this place into a zoo.”

With that, the door closed and Gabriel was gone. 

Aziraphale leant back in his chair with a heavy sigh. After a moment, he made his way to the cabinet where he kept his favourite wines and a collection of crystal wineglasses. Alcohol always helped after an encounter with Gabriel. He poured himself a glass of red, drank it slowly, and then topped it up again before heading into the kitchen.

The washing up had been finished, and Crowley had gone. It was almost dinner time but Aziraphale didn’t feel like cooking, instead he thought about getting something delivered. 

Aziraphale went in search of Crowley. The demon stepped out of his bedroom just as Aziraphale reached the top of the stairs. 

Crowley was wearing a fitted, short-sleeved T-shirt, but Aziraphale could have sworn he’d been wearing a long-sleeved shirt earlier. Perhaps he’d splashed himself whilst doing the washing up. The moment Aziraphale realised he was staring at Crowley’s bare arms and narrow waist, he quickly averted his eyes. 

“I was thinking of ordering something for dinner,” Aziraphale said. “Would you like to come down and look at the menus with me?”

Crowley nodded. He looked uncomfortable, and Aziraphale didn’t blame him. Gabriel had that effect on him too.

***

Gabriel slammed the door closed in Crowley’s face, making him jump and drop his tea towel. He knelt down and scooped it up.

The angels were talking in the backroom. He couldn’t make out the words until Gabriel raised his voice in surprise. 

“You want a new demon?! What’s wrong with the one you’ve already got?”

It felt as though the ground was falling away beneath him, leaving him endlessly falling. 

Crowley forced himself to keep quiet, his breaths coming sharp and shallow. Tears blurred his vision. He stepped closer to the door, trying to listen in and find out what he’d done wrong, but their voices were too quiet and he couldn’t make anything out. Why didn’t Aziraphale want him anymore?

He backed away from the door, entire body trembling. He couldn’t breathe. 

He dashed upstairs, and then hid under his bed. 

From his position on the floor, looking out from his hiding place, he could see his dragon tree. He had been so happy and grateful to receive such a wonderful gift, but now he was going to have to leave it behind. He was going to have to leave everything behind – his clothes, his books, his music player, his garden, every small freedom he had been allowed – all of it. None of it had ever really been his. Everything around him belonged to Aziraphale – even he himself belonged to Aziraphale - and he was going to be traded in like an old used car for something shiny and new. Just like Michael had done. 

Michael had sold him in order to buy Ligur. Michael and Ligur had been friends before the Fall, so the moment Ligur came onto the market Michael sold Crowley without a second thought. Crowley had hoped for a better life. He’d been a fool. He hadn’t realised how good he’d had it until he was bought by Sandalphon. 

Worst of all, Crowley was going to lose his best friend - although he was starting to realise that he and Aziraphale had never really been friends in the first place. Not as far as Aziraphale was concerned anyway. Aziraphale had lied to him, he had promised he would protect him, but instead, he was going to abandon him just like everyone else had done. Just like God had done. 

Rage burned in Crowley’s chest. He had trusted Aziraphale, he had believed in him. He thought they were friends. He thought Aziraphale liked him. But of course he didn’t. He’d been stupid to believe in him. Even God didn’t love him, so why would Aziraphale feel any differently? 

He was worthless. 

Crowley thought of all of the things Aziraphale had done for him, all of the freedom he had given him - letting him fly, watch films, plant flowers, listen to music, choose what he wanted to eat, he had even taken him to parks and cafes. And what had Crowley done in return? All he did was cry and have panic attacks. He thought of all the things he’d done wrong, of all the ways he had disappointed Aziraphale. No wonder he wanted to be rid of him. 

He should have done whatever it took to make Aziraphale happy. He should have offered his body to him - he had already been considering it – maybe then Aziraphale would like him. Perhaps that was why he wanted a new demon. He wanted someone who would have sex with him. 

But there was still a chance. 

If Crowley offered himself now, and if he was really good in bed, then maybe Aziraphale would decide to keep him after all.

Crowley wanted to stay. This was the only place he’d felt safe in 6000 years. He was scared of what his future would be if he was sold back to the Demon Rehoming House, scared of who would end up buying him and what they would do to him. 

He’d been planning to offer himself to Aziraphale one day anyway, he’d just be doing it a little sooner than expected, that was all. He wanted to have sex with him. It’d be fun. 

And yet, the thought of Aziraphale touching him made his skin crawl. He didn’t trust Aziraphale anymore. He hated him, and he hated himself for growing so attached to him in the first place - all Aziraphale had needed to do was show him basic levels of decency and Crowley had immediately thought the world of him. Pathetic. 

Crowley didn’t want to have sex with him but he knew he would have to if he wanted to stay here. And he did want to stay. 

He could do this. 

He only needed to use his hands and his mouth – he was good with his mouth. It wouldn’t be so bad, he might even enjoy it. Hopefully that would be enough to make Aziraphale change his mind. 

The anger he felt towards Aziraphale started to fade. He wasn’t being fair to him. Aziraphale had been so kind and patient with him, he treated him like a real person. Aziraphale deserved something in return.

Crowley wiped his eyes dry on his sleeve. It would be okay. He would go to him tonight. Aziraphale wouldn’t hurt him, wouldn’t force him, he’d be gentle with him. Crowley could take charge and show Aziraphale just how much he appreciated him. 

He emerged from under the bed, and then stood in front of the mirror. He took off his long sleeved shirt and then put on something more flattering instead, something tight fitting which showed a bit more skin. 

He would make Aziraphale change his mind. It would all be worth it to be allowed to stay here. He would prove that he was worth keeping.

There were footsteps on the stairs, and Crowley tensed. He did his best to compose himself before leaving his room. They met on the landing. 

Crowley saw the way Aziraphale looked at his body before averting his eyes in embarrassment. His plan was going to work. He felt both relieved and terrified at the same time.

They went downstairs to look at the menus, and then Aziraphale ordered curry over the telephone.

Aziraphale picked up his empty wine glass. “I’m going to top up my drink. Would you like some wine?” 

“Er… please,” Crowley said, hoping it might help him to relax. 

“Have you had alcohol before?” 

Crowley shook his head. 

“Ah, well, have a taste of it first and see what you think. You don’t have to drink it all if you don’t like it. Come along, I keep my best wines in the back room.”

Crowley followed the angel into the back room. The space was small and cluttered, and there were books everywhere, some protected behind glass, others littering every available surface.

Crowley was hit with the sudden urge to destroy the books, to rip out pages, to hurt Aziraphale just as he had hurt him. He felt ashamed for even thinking it. 

“I think this must be the only room you haven’t been in yet,” Aziraphale said as he poured their drinks.

He was right, although Crowley hadn’t properly been in Aziraphale’s bedroom yet. He had barely crossed the threshold when he asked if he could go outside to see the stars. Perhaps, by the end of the night, he would have made it all the way into his bed. 

Crowley took the glass of wine that Aziraphale held out to him. The wine tasted sharp and tangy, and he must have pulled a face because Aziraphale let out a laugh and then gave him a fond smile.

“It can be a bit of an acquired taste,” Aziraphale said. “You don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it.”

Crowley took another sip. “Nah, it’s okay. It was just sharper than I expected.” 

A wooden box on a shelf caught his eye. He inhaled sharply. It was the box of holy water tablets.

Aziraphale turned and saw what Crowley was looking at. “Oh! Sorry! I’ll hide that thing away.” The angel scooped up the box and put it in his desk drawer. “You don’t have to worry about that horrible stuff anymore.”

Oh, shit. 

The holy water tablets. 

Aziraphale had said he’d never have to take them ever again, but that must be a lie too. He’d been stupid to believe him. Aziraphale must be planning to wait until the day he wanted to sell him. That way he wouldn’t have to listen to him cry and beg, he could just give him a tablet – perhaps hidden in his food - and then sell him while he was unconscious without even needing to say goodbye. Any day now, Crowley could wake up in the Demon Rehoming House, never to see Aziraphale ever again. Perhaps he was planning to hide it in the food being delivered in less than an hour. Aziraphale had seemed squeamish about giving him the tablets himself, so it made sense that - instead of force feeding him - he might choose to trick him into eating it. 

Or maybe he had asked Gabriel to do it. Perhaps Gabriel would come back on the day Aziraphale wanted to sell him. 

Either way, Aziraphale would have to give him the tablet within the next week and a half if he wanted to do it before his powers returned. Time was running out. Crowley didn’t have long left to convince Aziraphale to keep him.

He looked down into his wine glass, grateful that a tablet hadn’t been dissolved into his drink already or his plan would have been over before it had even started.

When the food arrived, Crowley made sure that he was the one who collected it and served it up, worried that Aziraphale might try to drug his food.

They ate together in the sitting room with the television on, and then, when Aziraphale had finished and Crowley had eaten about as much as he could manage, he took their bowls downstairs and did the washing up. 

His heart was racing. He knew what he had to do next. 

Once back upstairs, he sat nervously on the sofa, trying to figure out how to initiate this. Usually, the other demons were the ones who started things off, with comforting touches which led to more lustful ones. They would be sat together, with only bars between them, but Aziraphale was sat far away in his armchair. They weren’t close enough for innocent touches. 

Aziraphale crossed the room and grabbed something from his desk. “Let’s finish off this box of chocolates we opened yesterday.”

Aziraphale opened the box, and then held it out to Crowley and asked him to take a few chocolates, but instead Crowley took only one and then patted the seat beside him. Aziraphale sat down, a happy smile on his face. 

They watched television, side by side. Crowley ate the chocolate he had been given after checking that it didn’t have a tablet hidden inside. 

Crowley shifted in his seat and let his leg press against Aziraphale’s. The angel tensed but didn’t move away. 

Trying not to think about how his entire future relied on getting this right, Crowley casually reached out and placed his hand on Aziraphale’s knee while keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the television. 

Aziraphale let out a shocked little gasp.

Crowley turned to look at him. Aziraphale was staring down at his hand – still on his knee - in confusion. Then Aziraphale looked up, and their eyes met. 

“I like you a lot,” Crowley said. 

“Oh? I- Er-” Aziraphale’s breath hitched. Crowley’s little finger had started rubbing circles on his knee. Aziraphale watched it for a moment before looking back at Crowley again, a bewildered look on his face. 

Crowley leant over and kissed him on the cheek. 

“Oh,” Aziraphale breathed. “I- I didn’t know that you- Are you sure you want this?”

“I want you.” 

Heart pounding, trying not to think too much, Crowley pressed their lips together. Aziraphale didn’t kiss him back at first, but then, hesitantly, his lips started to move. 

Aziraphale drew back after only a few seconds, clearly embarrassed. “I’ve- Um. I’ve never done this before.”

At one time, Crowley might have found Aziraphale’s shyness endearing, but he was at least grateful that Aziraphale was allowing him to take the lead - it made him feel like he had some sort of control over what was happening.

“It’s okay,” Crowley said gently, “I’ll show you.”

Their lips met again, and Crowley moved his hand a little way up Aziraphale’s thigh. The angel gasped and then deepened the kiss, grabbing at Crowley’s waist and then his thigh. Crowley wanted to push him away. 

Aziraphale moaned against his mouth. “Oh, Crowley…” 

Crowley hated hearing his name used like that. He wished he’d never shared it with him. 

Aziraphale’s hand was stroking his thigh, moving upwards, and Crowley was terrified he was going to grab at his crotch and realise he wasn’t in the least bit excited. Aziraphale didn’t have that trouble - his trousers were already beginning to tent. 

Feeling vulnerable and helpless, Crowley scrambled down off of the sofa, needing to escape Aziraphale’s hands and his mouth. He kept his head low, trying to hide the tears that had come to his eyes. Crowley pushed Aziraphale’s legs apart and knelt between them. 

“C- Crowley? What are you-?” 

Shaking hands went up to unbuckle Aziraphale’s belt. This was fine, he’d done it before. He was good at this. Aziraphale wouldn’t want to sell him - not when he realised how good he was with his mouth. But he couldn’t unfasten this stupid belt. 

“Crowley, are you okay?”

Crowley nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak. 

Aziraphale’s took hold of his hands, moving them away. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Aziraphale said. 

Crowley tried to keep his voice steady. “I want to.”

“It’s just- You’re shaking.” 

“I’m just a bit nervous, is all. I want to do this. I want to make you happy.” 

“Oh, Crowley. You don’t have to do this to make me happy. I’m already happy. And your happiness is important too. I would never want you to do something you’re not comfortable with. I’m so sorry – I should have known this was a bad idea.”

It was clear that Aziraphale wasn’t happy, or he wouldn’t be planning on selling him. 

Crowley hid his face as tears started to fall. He tried to wipe them away, but he knew there was no sense in pretending anymore. It was over. He’d failed. He hunched his shoulders and started to cry in earnest.

“Crowley, what’s the matter? It’s okay, it’s okay.” 

Aziraphale climbed down from the sofa to join him on the floor. He brought a cushion down with him and held it over his lap. He tried to do it casually, but Crowley knew he was trying to hide how hard he was. Crowley felt ashamed for getting him so worked up and then not doing anything about it. He’d embarrassed both of them.

“Crowley, please look at me. I’m not angry. It’s okay to change your mind. I was getting a bit overwhelmed myself - things were happening so quickly. ” 

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I shouldn’t have let things go this far… I don’t think this kind of relationship is a good idea between us. I like how things are already. I like being friends.” 

Crowley couldn’t bear the way Aziraphale was trying to act like they were best buddies, when in reality he was probably wondering how soon he could be rid of him. 

Crowley looked up at Aziraphale, anger burning deep inside. He tried to keep his voice steady. “I heard what you said to Gabriel, so you can stop pretending.”

Aziraphale looked confused. “I don’t understand. What did I say?”

“What did you say?!” Crowley shouted, furious and unable to believe Aziraphale’s audacity. “You’re going to get rid of me!”

Aziraphale looked shocked.

Crowley was horrified with himself for shouting like that. He’d not raised his voice to an angel in thousands of years. He’d quickly learnt that talking back to Michael only made things worse. 

“Sorry,” Crowley sobbed. “Please don’t send me away! I’ll be good! I’ll do anything you want!”

“I would never send you away. I don’t understand why you would think that.”

“But I heard you! You’re going to replace me with another demon! I heard you talking about it with Gabriel!” 

Aziraphale looked utterly bewildered for a moment, and then realisation seemed to dawn. “Oh! Oh, you heard- Crowley, I told Gabriel I was thinking of getting a second demon. Not to replace you, but to live here with us.”

“What?” 

“I was thinking of bringing one of your friends here to live with us. I would never replace you, I promise. I just want to rescue another demon. Give them somewhere safe to live.”

“Another…” 

Oh, shit. Aziraphale was telling the truth, wasn’t he? Crowley had misinterpreted what he’d heard. “I- I- I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

“No, Crowley, no, of course not. This is your home. I care about you deeply, and I would never send you away.”

Crowley’s voice trembled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to listen in. Gabriel was really loud.”

“This is my fault. I should have told you what I was planning from the start. I just didn’t want to risk getting your hopes up for nothing. I was hoping Gabriel would lend me some points - I don’t have quite enough yet – but he refused. I should have asked you how you felt first though. I won’t get another demon unless you want me to. How do you feel about having another demon come to live with us?”

Crowley didn’t know what to say, this was all too much to take in. Having another demon in the house would change everything.

Aziraphale sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overwhelm you. You won’t have to make that decision for a very long time anyway. It’ll take me centuries to save up enough points. Besides, Gabriel seems to really hate the idea of me getting another demon, so he might try to stop me. I’m so sorry.” A look of distress crossed Aziraphale’s face. “Wait… Was that why you kissed me? Because you wanted to stay?”

Crowley’s stomach twisted into a knot. “I’m sorry. I Just- I wanted you to like me.”

Aziraphale looked devastated for a moment, and then his lip pulled into a sad smile.

Words tumbled out of Crowley’s mouth. “I already wanted to kiss you, I did. I just wasn’t ready yet. And then when I thought you wanted to get rid of me… I’m so sorry!”

“This is not your fault. I shouldn’t have kissed you, no matter how either of us felt. It was very selfish and irresponsible of me.”

Crowley’s heart broke as he realised that he had ruined any chance of anything ever happening between them in the future. 

Aziraphale spoke gently. “You are so very dear to me, and I will always look after you and keep you safe. I promise you.” 

“I should have trusted you.”

“This is in no way your fault. You’ve had a terrible shock - I can’t even imagine how you’ve been feeling these past few hours. Are you alright?”

Crowley nodded. They both got up off the floor and sat back on the sofa, now with some extra space between them.

When Aziraphale spoke again, his voice was soft but serious. “I need you to know that your body is your own, and no one has any right to touch you unless you want them too. I’m so sorry for everything that has happened to you. And I’m sorry that I- I should never have touched you, it was wrong of me.”

Crowley realised with a jolt what Aziraphale must be assuming. “My old owners never- I mean, they hurt me but they never did that. No-one’s ever tried to force themselves on me or anything.”

Aziraphale looked relieved. 

Crowley averted his eyes. “I’ve been with some demons before. In the Demon Rehoming House. But that was always my choice, I could say no if I wanted to.”

“I’m glad you were able to find some joy in that awful place,” Aziraphale said after a moment. “I suppose you must miss the other demons? It might take a while, but I’ll eventually have enough points to buy another demon - if you would like me too. Is there anyone in particular you would like me to find?” 

Crowley thought about it for a moment but then he shook his head. “No. I wouldn’t trust any of them. Not here. They all hate angels - so did I once. I think they’d take advantage of your kindness. I don’t know.”

Crowley wondered if perhaps he was being selfish. He wanted Aziraphale all to himself. But he really didn’t trust the other demons to treat Aziraphale with respect. 

Aziraphale nodded. “I understand. Besides, I couldn’t bear to give them that medicine either, so it would have to be someone we both trusted completely.”

“I don’t need to have other demons around me. I’m happy here with you.”

Aziraphale smiled at him. 

Crowley felt overwhelmed with love for Aziraphale, his faith in him stronger than ever before. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. You’re the kindest person I ever met. I’m lucky you chose me.”

“I’m lucky I found you.” 

They ate some more chocolates while the television blared, but Crowley was too distracted by all that had happened to pay all that much attention to what was happening on screen.

It seemed Aziraphale was equally lost in his thoughts. “Oh, Heavens,” Aziraphale blurted out. “Did you hear what Gabriel said about Satan?”

“Satan? What’s happened to Satan?”

“You didn’t hear that bit? Er. Never mind. I’m not supposed to say.” 

Crowley’s stomach flipped. “Is he okay? Did something happen?” 

Aziraphale nibbled at a fingernail. “I’m not supposed to talk about it. Gabriel said it’s a secret… Oh, blast it. Satan is fine, as far as I’m aware. He’s still on the loose.”

“On the loose?!” Crowley cried out. He covered his mouth with his hands. “When they catch him, they’ll destroy him!” 

“Well, it’s been 6000 years and they’ve not caught him yet, so I wouldn’t worry too much about that. He’s very good at staying hidden.” 

Crowley stared at Aziraphale, momentarily struck dumb with shock. “But that goes all the way back to the rebellion. Did they never catch him in the first place?” 

“He escaped from Hell while the other demons were being rounded up. He went straight up to Earth, and he’s been here ever since.”

Crowley had been led to believe that he was the last demon to be caught. There had been a rumour amongst the demons at the Demon Rehoming House that the Metatron was Satan’s owner. Perhaps the angels had started that rumour to try to keep the truth hidden.

Crowley stared at the floor, overwhelmed by this new information. He should feel glad, but all he could think about was that it wasn’t fair. He had been tortured, humiliated, treated as a servant and a punching bag, while the one who instigated the rebellion in the first place had gotten away with it scot free. Jealously and anger boiled inside him, despite how guilty it made him feel. 

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Aziraphale begged. “I’ll get into terrible trouble.”

Crowley gave him a sad look. “Who would I tell?”

“Well… I don’t know. Maybe the new demon, if we get one? Or- I’ve actually been hoping another angel might let you spend time with their demon – if that would be something you would be interested in. I did ask Gabriel if you could see Beelzebub but he refused.” 

Crowley felt a stab of disappointment. He would have liked to see Beelzebub. “How is Beelzebub? Have you seen her?”

“Not in person. I’ve never actually been to Gabriel’s house on Earth, but sometimes Beelzebub answers the telephone. She always sounds okay when I speak to her.” 

“Could I talk to her on the telephone?” Crowley asked, excited at the thought of it.

Aziraphale pulled a face. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. If Gabriel found out, he’d be furious.”

Crowley nodded. He let out a sigh. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s too dangerous.”

“Perhaps Uriel would be willing?” Aziraphale said thoughtfully. “Dagon lives on Earth with her, but I’m not all that close to Uriel so I’d have to build up to it.” 

Crowley nodded. “Michael told me about Uriel owning Dagon. It always made sense to me because they were friends before the fall. But Michael never let me see her. Uriel came over fairly regularly but she always ignored me like I wasn’t even there. To be honest, most of the angels who visited ignored me.” 

“Terribly rude.”

“I’ve got a feeling Uriel will say no, just like Gabriel did, and just like Michael did. So don’t worry about asking her. I was never very close to Dagon anyway. It was mostly Satan and Beelzebub that I was friends with before the Fall.” 

“Oh, I do wish Gabriel would let you see Beelzebub.”

“Me too.”

***

Aziraphale sat in bed, a book lying open on his lap. He ignored it, instead staring miserably into the middle distance, thinking of all that had occurred that evening.

Crowley was next door in his bedroom, hopefully fast asleep.

It disturbed Aziraphale to think that Crowley had been so desperate to stay that he would have- That they’d almost- 

Aziraphale shut his eyes tightly, trying to block out the horror of what had almost happened. 

If Aziraphale hadn’t noticed how uncomfortable Crowley had been, if Crowley had been a better actor, he might have unknowingly raped him. 

Aziraphale wanted to think that he would have stopped anyway. The second Crowley got onto his knees and it was clear what he was planning, Aziraphale had felt a wave of guilt. It had felt wrong.

Aziraphale should have stopped Crowley the second he started flirting. He should have removed Crowley’s hand from his knee. He should never have kissed him or touched him. What had he been thinking? He’d had a few glasses of wine, but that was no excuse for such poor judgement. Aziraphale had only himself to blame.

A romantic relationship could never work between an angel and a demon. They were master and servant, jailer and captive. Crowley relied on him for everything, they could never be on equal footing. 

Even if Crowley truly did have feelings for him it would still be inappropriate. Crowley might end up feeling trapped, too afraid to say no, not wanting to risk upsetting the one in charge. What had happened today was proof of that, proof that Crowley would do whatever it took to make him happy – and that was terrifying. 

Tears came to Aziraphale’s eyes. Tears for Crowley, and also for himself.

It had been Aziraphale’s first kiss, the first time anyone had ever touched him, and the memory of it was sickening. Crowley had hated every second of it. Aziraphale felt overwhelmed with shame and humiliation knowing that Crowley had seen how excited he was, he must have been disgusted and frightened. He put his head into his hands and wondered how on Earth he was ever going to face Crowley in the morning. 

He wondered how Crowley truly felt about him. Crowley had said that he had wanted to kiss him, he just hadn’t been ready yet, but Aziraphale suspected that he had only said that to try to make him feel better. 

Did Crowley even like him? Perhaps he secretly hated him. Aziraphale hoped that Crowley had at least grown a little fond of him during their time together. They had been through so much.

Aziraphale didn’t blame any of what had happened on Crowley. He had done it out of fear - a desperate attempt to protect himself. It was horrifying that Crowley would allow anyone to use him for sex, and Aziraphale hoped that Crowley’s experiences with the other demons had been as willing as Crowley had implied. 

When Aziraphale first met Crowley, he had promised that he would never touch him. He had broken that promise, but he would never make that mistake again. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Brief unwanted touching. 
> 
> Content warning containing spoilers for this chapter:
> 
> Crowley overhears Aziraphale talking to Gabriel but mishears and thinks Aziraphale wants to get rid of him. So he decides to seduce him, hoping Aziraphale will then change his mind. There is some kissing and light touching but Aziraphale quickly realises that Crowley isn’t into it and stops. The truth comes out and Aziraphale reassures him that he would never get rid of him, and he is safe. Also Aziraphale feels guilty for responding to Crowley’s advances in the first place.


	12. Chapter 12

***

It should have taken two more weeks for Crowley’s powers to come back, but he felt a change in himself after only one. 

Crowley woke up one morning and instantly knew something was different, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. He felt stronger and healthier, more alive than he had in six millennia. As the morning went by he realised he didn’t feel thirst or hunger in the same way anymore, though he still enjoyed eating. 

His supernatural body had fully healed from the holy water tablets, and now his background magic was keeping his body alive. He probably didn’t even need to breathe, though he didn’t dare test it, even by holding his breath. 

With a shock of excitement, he realised he could probably perform miracles again – or occult magic, as he ought to call it – but of course, he would never be so brazen. He felt sure that Heaven would know if he did, and both he and Aziraphale would get into terrible trouble.

Would he even remember how to use his powers? It had been 6000 years after all. But then again, he couldn’t imagine that it was something he could ever forget.

He told Aziraphale immediately, wanting to be as open and transparent as possible. He couldn’t risk Aziraphale thinking he was hiding something from him - especially this. Ever since Aziraphale had made the decision to allow Crowley’s powers to return he had seemed anxious. Crowley couldn’t blame him. It had been a big decision.

Things between them had changed after the kiss. It had driven a wedge between them. Aziraphale was still friendly and kind, but he now seemed withdrawn, keeping him at arm’s length. Crowley missed the closeness they had once shared, and he blamed himself. He hoped that one day they could get back to where they once were. As the days went past, Aziraphale seemed a little more himself. Just a simple laugh, a beaming smile, or a teasing joke from the angel was enough to give Crowley hope.

Crowley had been worried that once he told Aziraphale that he was back to full health the angel would withdraw from him even more, especially when it happened earlier than they had both anticipated. He worried that Aziraphale might change his mind. But instead, Aziraphale seemed genuinely pleased for him, even expressing his delight that Crowley had completely healed from the effects of the holy water. 

***

It was a warm day, and Aziraphale was sat at the table in the courtyard, engrossed in a book. 

Crowley had been gardening but he was now inside making them some lemonade. 

The sound of something shattering came from the kitchen along with a panicked yelp from Crowley. Aziraphale hurried inside and found Crowley backed up against the kitchen counter, staring in shock at a broken drinking glass on the floor. 

“Oops,” Aziraphale said in a light-hearted tone of voice. “Not to worry. Accidents happen.”

Crowley jumped, having only just realised that Aziraphale was beside him. “Sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean too!” He seemed frozen to the spot, his gaze darting between Aziraphale and the broken glass.

“It’s alright, it’s only a glass.” Aziraphale fetched a dustpan and brush from under the sink. “We have plenty of other glasses so we’ll just bin this one. No need to waste a miracle on it.”

Crowley made an anxious sound in the back of his throat.

Aziraphale cleared up the shards of glass as quickly as possible, worried that Crowley might snap out of his stupor, try to help, and end up cutting himself. 

Aziraphale finished disposing of the glass and then turned towards Crowley, who had just sat down at the kitchen table. He was staring at the spot where the glass shards had been. 

“Did I miss a bit?” Aziraphale asked with a playful smile.

Crowley shook his head, gulped, and then put his head in his hands. He started trembling, and Aziraphale realised he was crying.

This entire situation was reminding Aziraphale far too much of how Crowley had been when he first arrived. It put him in mind of when Crowley dropped the book and hid under his bed. 

“You’re not in any trouble, Crowley. It’s okay.”

“It was an accident. I didn’t mean to,” Crowley said, his voice shaking.

Aziraphale sat down at the table and gave him a reassuring smile. “Crowley-”

“No, you don’t understand. When the glass started falling I panicked and I- I stopped it with my mind. I didn’t mean to. It froze in the air, and then it fell when I stopped using my powers. I’m so sorry,” Crowley gasped. “I should never have persuaded you to- Now I’ve put us in danger!”

Aziraphale forced himself to push aside his initial shock, needing to calm Crowley down. “We’re not in any danger. It’s okay-” 

“The angels will know I did occult magic! The angels will come for me! And you’ll get in trouble too!”

“No, they won’t. Look at me, Crowley. Look at me.”

Crowley looked at him, his eyes wild with panic.

“Heaven can’t tell the difference between a miracle and occult magic. They’ll assume it was me.” 

“W- What?”

“You’re not in any trouble. We’re quite safe.”

“They won’t know I did it?” Crowley let out a shaky breath. “Oh, angel, I thought I’d ruined everything.” 

“No, it’s alright.”

“I won’t do it again. I promise. It was just a stupid, automatic reaction, but I know I can control it. I guess I’m just not used to having my powers back.”

Aziraphale couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to have your powers stripped from you, and then, upon getting them back, to have to force yourself to never use them. He struggled enough with having to ration his own miracles. Perhaps it would be nice for Crowley to be able to use his powers every now and again.

“No harm done. Thank you for telling me.” Aziraphale said. “And now we definitely know you’re back to full health.”

Crowley wiped a few stray tears from his eyes. He gave him a smile. “Yeah. I feel like I’m myself again.” 

“I’m glad.”

“I suppose that explains why they haven’t caught Satan yet, if they can’t tell the difference between miracles and occult magic.” 

“Satan doesn’t use his powers - not unless he’s forced into it. But all the same, Heaven keeps a look out for magic being performed in areas where it shouldn’t be.”

“It must be scary for him, being constantly on the run. I hope he’s okay.”

“Me too.”

***

Crowley and Aziraphale were watching television in the sitting room, back in their usual seating. They had not shared the sofa since the kiss, and Crowley suspected that Aziraphale would never sit that close to him ever again.

They were watching Beauty and the Beast.

Crowley felt a kinship between himself and Belle. Both of them were afraid of their captor before learning to love and trust them. Crowley felt that Aziraphale had turned into a Prince just as the beast had. 

After the film, they went downstairs into the kitchen and talked about the film while making a pot of tea - Aziraphale seemed especially taken with the beast’s library – and then they returned upstairs with a tray of tea and biscuits. 

“I’ve been thinking,” said Aziraphale after they’d both sat down. “Would you like to try using your powers a little? It might help you to control them.”

Crowley stared at him in shock. It took him a moment to reply. “If you’re sure you don’t mind - and you’re sure the other angels won’t find out. I’d like to try.” 

“They would only notice something was amiss if you used your powers in the house while I was away. They keep tabs on my whereabouts, you see. So long as I’m here, it’s tickety-boo.” 

“Okay,” Crowley said. He thought about what might have happened if Aziraphale had been out when he dropped that glass. “I’m lucky you were here when... I must make sure I never do that again.” 

“I think practicing will help.”

Crowley stared at the floor. This was a dangerous situation, and the obvious answer was for him to take those tablets again. He should stop this before anything horrible happened. “Maybe it isn’t such a good idea for me to have my powers…”

“I have no reason to leave the house for the next few weeks, so if you accidently use your powers again in that time, it’ll be alright. You have plenty of time to learn how to control it. If you would like to.”

“Thank you, angel,” Crowley said, feeling reassured. 

Aziraphale smiled. He gestured to where a plate of chocolate chip biscuits sat on the coffee table between them. “How about you try levitating one of the biscuits?” 

Crowley stared at one of the biscuits. His brow furrowed in concentration as he let his imagination soar. 

The biscuit hovered into the air before drifting towards Crowley. He plucked it from the air triumphantly.

“Oh, well done, dear boy!” Aziraphale cheered.

Crowley grinned. “Can I try it again?”

“Go on.”

A second biscuit flew into the air, and this time it moved towards Aziraphale.

“Hold out your hands, angel.”

The biscuit dropped into Aziraphale’s cupped hands. “Oh, thank you!” 

They both devoured their biscuits. 

“Let’s set up some ground rules, okay?” said Aziraphale. “You can use your powers a couple of times a day if you like. But you must ask me first. I’m sorry I have to police your mira- magic use, but it’s imperative that I’m in the know. Heaven tends to keep this stuff on file. And we’ll need to make sure we don’t do too many miracles between us as well.” 

“Thank you so much for this, Aziraphale.” 

Aziraphale gave an embarrassed smile. “Oh, that’s quite alright, dear boy.” 

“Can I do one more?” 

“Go on then. But after that we’d better call it a day.” 

Crowley nodded. “Thanks.”

Crowley held his hands out in front of him, palms up, and then took a deep breath. 

A green tendril appeared, hovering in the air above his hands. It started to grow, spiralling upwards as diamond shaped leaves sprang from it, and then a ruby-red bud appeared on the top and bloomed, delicate petals glittering in the light. 

It seemed alive, real, and yet there was something otherworldly about it, something magical.

Aziraphale made an awed sound. “Oh, Crowley, it’s beautiful. It reminds me of the rose from the film.” 

Crowley gazed at the rose, a smile on his lips. He’d almost forgotten how much he enjoyed creating things. 

Aziraphale crossed the room and picked up a small and narrow glass vase from the windowsill. He emptied the incense sticks from it into the bin, and then placed the empty vase in front of Crowley. “You can pop the rose in here if you like. It would look lovely on the windowsill… But you can keep it wherever you wish, of course.” 

Crowley placed the rose in the vase, and then put it on the windowsill. “It looks nice here. Good thinking, angel.”

Aziraphale looked delighted. 

Crowley couldn’t help but smile at the knowledge that Aziraphale liked something he had made, and even wanted it on display. A warm feeling spread through his chest, and he realised it was pride.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Tale as Old as Time plays gently in the background*


End file.
